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THE ANGELS 

OF 

SAVONAROLA 



By 

Eliza Strang Baird 



American Tract Society 

150 Nassau Street ... New York 



.-£>3 



Copyright, 1910, 
By AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 



CIA273192 



^ 



Extract from a letter of Fra Girolamo to Fra 
Domenico, his dearest friend: 

44 All here are well, especially our angels {nos- 
tri angeli), who wish to be remembered. Keep 
well and pray for me. I wait your return with 
great eagerness." 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Under the Rose Tree n 

II. At the Cathedral 26 

III. Lorenzo's Confession 46 

IV. The Bonfire of Vanities 64 

V. Gathering Clouds 95 

VI. The Breaking of the Storm .... 125 



Prelude 

Upon the walls of many glorious churches and 
splendid palaces in the beautiful city of Florence 
are painted angel faces, outlined there hundreds 
of years ago by the hands of skillful and tender- 
hearted masters. 

The saintly Fra Angelico, the sympathetic Bot- 
ticelli drew some of these angels and breathed 
into them a holiness and a purity which later art- 
ists have been unable to equal. 

Yet it is not of these that I want to tell you, 
but of a real human being — an Italian boy — who 
lived in Florence four hundred years ago, and 
who, because he gave much of help and comfort 
to a great soul that suffered there for the sin and 
shame of the city, was not unfitly called by him 
one of his " angels," being indeed a little minister- 
ing spirit who brought succor and solace in a time 
of dire distress to one of God's truest servants. 

During the last decade of the fifteenth century 
that fair City of Flowers, full of riches and learn- 
ing, crowded with stately buildings and dowered 
with wonderful art treasures, had nevertheless 
come to a sad period in her history. 

Lorenzo de' Medici, the Magnificent Lorenzo, 
as he was called, had so far usurped the power 



8 Prelude 

in Florence that he had made himself into a sort 
of tyrant, by whose slightest whim the affairs of 
state were swayed. 

Lorenzo was not, it is true, a wholly wicked 
man, or destitute of noble impulses. He was to 
a degree generous, and he had an intense admira- 
tion for the beautiful in letters and in art. But 
he cared little how the poor suffered, and he lived 
in a reckless, passionate way which doubtless 
brought him to his swift and early death at the 
age of forty-two years. 

Though the rich men in Florence were numer- 
ous at this time, yet the poverty in some quarters 
of the city Was great, and there seemed few to 
trouble themselves concerning those who suc- 
cumbed in life's struggle either from want or sick- 
ness. Lorenzo and his gay companions feasted 
all night long in their richly-decorated palaces, 
and then went with drunken carousals through 
the streets while the dawn was breaking; only to 
spend the following day in bargaining over rare 
treasures of sculpture dug up from some ancient 
ruin, or in listening to the recital of the poems 
of some classic Greek master. 

For them the religion of Jesus Christ seemed 
almost a thing despised and forgotten. It has 
even been said that some of these deluded Floren- 
tines suggested a return to the idolatry of the old 
Greek superstitions. 



Prelude 9 

But God did not forget His people in Florence, 
even as He has never forgotten that remnant which 
remains to Him through all the ages. Still there 
existed a few noble souls in the city who watched 
and hoped for a turn in the tide — for something 
which would purify the mass of corruption and 
guide the people back to better ways. 

Therefore our kind Heavenly Father sent at 
last a noble prophet and leader among them who 
accomplished a great work, and whose memory 
is perhaps more precious and more like that of 
the divine Master Himself than that of any re- 
ligious teacher who has ever lived on earth. 

This prophet's name was Fra Girolamo Savon- 
arola, and I should like to sketch for you a few 
among the most wonderful pictures in his remark- 
able career as they were witnessed by the people 
of Florence, who loved him, and whom he loved 
with a passionate tenderness, but particularly as 
they were seen by one little lad who was very near 
to the great preacher's heart, and whom I have 
called one of the " Angels of Savonarola." 



The Angels of Savonarola 



UNDER THE ROSE TREE 

On a beautiful summer day in Florence during 
the year 1489 Guido Salviati sat before a mag- 
nificently carved oaken desk in his study, writing 
diligently. 

Guido was a slender dark-eyed man of about 
middle-age. His intellectual face and nobly 
moulded brow showed him to be a student, while 
his carriage, at once haughty and graceful, spoke 
of his patrician ancestry. 

The Salviati were, in truth, one of the oldest 
Florentine families, and distantly related to the 
Medici by a connection which dated several gen- 
erations back. But they were not at all proud of 
the kinship, and Guido himself would have told 
you, had you questioned him on the subject, that 
the reigning family of Florence was to blame for 
much that was evil and dangerous in the affairs 
of the city's government. 

Guido Salviati was naturally of a sweet and 
lovable temper, but his outlook upon the world 
had from earliest youth been rather a grave and 
sad one. He was inclined to take sombre views 



12 The Angels of Savonarola 

of life and to see the gloomy side of a picture 
which included both shadow and light. 

Perhaps this was partly because there had been 
much sorrow connected with his early childhood. 
His father had perished only a few months after 
his birth in one of those fierce political tumults 
which occasionally swept across the sky of civic 
life in Florence, bringing some of her best and 
noblest citizens to untimely deaths, and changing 
without warning the party in power to one of 
wholly diverse sentiments. 

Guido's mother had brought him up with the 
hope that he might give his life to the Church 
and become a monk in one of the numerous orders 
then 'existing. She was an intensely religious 
woman, and if it had not been for the deep re- 
sponsibility she felt in moulding the life of her 
little son, she would no doubt have retired im- 
mediately to a convent and taken the veil as soon 
as her young husband passed away. 

But Guido Salviati, though he reverenced and 
respected his mother as she well deserved, and 
though in most things her slightest wish was law 
to him, could by no means bring his mind to re- 
sign the joys and the excitements of a career in 
this world, and would never consent even to think 
of entering upon the monkish existence. 

That he had not cherished any such intention 
was the more fortunate, since when he was twenty 



Under the Rose Tree 13 

years old there came into his life that which was 
to be its greatest delight and its most wholesome 
inspiration. This was his love for a beautiful 
young cousin, Maria Valori, a fair and lovely 
woman, whose companionship would have made 
cheerful the saddest condition. 

Maria was one of those blue-eyed and golden- 
haired Italian girls belonging to a type seldom 
seen, but whose beauty is perhaps the more charm- 
ing for its rarity. She gave to Guido after their 
marriage all the tenderness and devotion of which 
her lofty soul was capable, and their affection was 
made richer and more unselfish when there came 
to them a little son, who inherited the fair skin 
and hair of his mother and the dark eyes of his 
father, and who was, at the time our story opens, 
a very beautiful boy about eight years old. 

Guido Salviati dipped his pen once again into 
the polished silver ink-stand in front of him, but 
paused a moment to listen before placing it upon 
the paper. 

Down the great stone stairway and through 
the echoing marble hall were coming childish foot- 
steps. 

They paused at the study-door, and a boy's 
voice called in ringing tones : 

11 Father, have you not almost finished your writ- 
ing? You know you said I might go with you 
to-day to hear the Frate speak at the San Marco, 



14 The Angels of Savonarola 

and I am all ready. See, father, I have put on 
my beautiful new velvet tunic and cap which 
mother embroidered for me in gold and silver 
thread! And nurse said I might wear the neck- 
lace of mosaics set in silver which you brought 
me the last time you went to Rome." 

Guido Salviati rose and carefully arranged the 
pile of written sheets on his desk, then turned 
and held out both arms to his well-loved little boy. 

" That is right, my Bernardino. You are quite 
a fine young man in your new costume, and I think 
your mother's skilled hands have indeed wrought 
a wonderful work of art in all those graceful pat- 
terns upon collar and sleeve. The mosaics are 
a little heavy for you to wear as yet, but since 
nurse thinks otherwise — well, we will let them 
adorn you for this one occasion. 

" So I promised to take you to hear the Frate 
talk, did I? Now truly, Dino, do you think it 
is possible that such a very small and ignorant 
person as yourself could comprehend one single 
word of what that great man is to preach about? ** 

The pair made a striking picture as they stood 
in their rich dresses beneath the high window of 
stained glass through which the brilliant rays of 
the afternoon sun were streaming, the slender 
figure and dark, high-bred face of the father con- 
trasting well with the fair, childish beauty of his 
golden-haired son. 



Under the Rose Tree 15 

"Why, father," Bernardino replied quickly, in 
a tone of slightly wounded dignity, " I am not 
such a very small boy any longer. You know I 
was eight years old on my last birthday, and some 
of the lads who belong to Fra Girolamo's class 
and who wear the beautiful white dresses are only 
twelve. I think I should like to wear a white 
dress when I am a little older, and become one 
of his 'angels/ as he calls them! " 

Salviati's brow clouded, and he looked some- 
what grave at the eager words. Great as was his 
admiration for Fra Girolamo Savonarola, the new 
Dominican friar who was influencing all Florence 
so mightily by his teaching during these last 
months, he yet had never overcome the intense ab- 
horrence of the monastic vocation which had been 
one of the shadows that fell across his boyhood 
days. 

The thought that his lovely, light-hearted son 
could ever become an inmate of the dark cells and 
tread the long cloisters in any monastery was ex- 
ceedingly repugnant to him, and he said quickly, 
with an abrupt change of tone : 

"No, indeed, my Bernardino, you are not to 
be a Dominican novice; you are to be a student 
like your father — to collect rare manuscripts, and 
copy and criticise them, to read the wonderful 
poems of the old Greek masters, and perhaps to 
unearth discoveries of classic treasures which will 



1 6 The Angels of Savonarola 

render your name famous and make you a bene- 
factor to humanity." 

" I do not think that is being a great benefactor 
to people," said Dino sagely, while he watched his 
father take from a nail on the wall his velvet cap, 
with its curling plume, and a long silken coat 
which he threw about him. " Do you believe, 
father, that it really makes men any better to read 
old manuscripts or learn Greek poems? When I 
am grown up I will teach them to give money for 
feeding the poor, and to be more loving and more 
gentle towards one another. Mother says that is 
what the Frate shows us is best and right, and 
that it is the only way to make Florence a city that 
the Lord Jesus Christ would approve of ! " 

Guido Salviati looked at his son in some sur- 
prise, wondering what other unexpected thoughts 
might be maturing under that thatch of sunny 
hair. 

Below his breath he murmured softly, " Verily, 
out of the mouths of babes we are taught," but 
aloud he only said, " Well, well, your mother has 
a pretty clear understanding of matters in general, 
Dino, so I am sure she has quoted our friend Fra 
Girolamo correctly." 

By this time the two were in the street, walk- 
ing with rapid steps towards the well-known con- 
vent of San Marco, whose historic walls were the 
goal of their expedition. 



Under the Rose Tree 17 

Meanwhile the boy, struggling hard to keep up 
with his father's longer footsteps, was talking 
breathlessly, his sentences put rapidly together. 

11 Father, what do you think the Frate will speak 
about to-day? Mother says that each time she 
has heard him it has been on some chapter of the 
Revelation, and he explains it all so beautifully, 
and puts entirely new ideas into her mind. I wish 
he would say something specially for the children 
to-day, something that I could understand and re- 
member! Perhaps he will tell how the Lord 
Jesus loved little ones, and took them up in his 
arms and blessed them, as mother says he is doing 
in the beautiful picture she gave .me for my birth- 
day which hangs above my bed ! " 

The father had scarcely time to reply to this 
observation, for they had now reached the Con- 
vent of San Marco, and were entering the cloister 
garden, where quite a congregation had already 
gathered. 

It was a glorious day in early summer, and Fra 
Girolamo had assembled his boys in the open 
square surrounded by the cloisters which the monks 
cultivated as their garden and which was filled 
with beautiful flowers. 

The scene was a pleasing one, and imprinted 
itself firmly on the memory of little Bernardino. 
Many times later in life he had only to close his 
eyes to recall it vividly — the blue Italian sky, the 



1 8 The Angels of Savonarola 

grey encompassing walls of the convent, the bril- 
liant flowers, and the white dresses of the Domini- 
can novices, who formed a semi-circle around their 
beloved teacher. 

Savonarola himself was seated in a high-backed 
carved chair, which had been placed for him di- 
rectly under the gigantic damask rose-tree grow- 
ing in the centre of the garden. 

The tree was in full bloom, its wealth of fra- 
grant blossoms already beginning to scatter in a 
crimson shower on the ground beneath. As they 
fluttered down, so fair and fresh and radiant, 
they seemed in singular contrast to the dark figure 
whose head and shoulders they rested upon occa- 
sionally with an almost caressing touch. 

Fra Girolamo was at this time just beginning 
the remarkable career that was to make him the 
most notable personage in Florentine history and 
one of the greatest men in the history of the 
world. 

Bernardino, pulling hard upon his father's 
hand, strove eagerly to get near the front rank 
of white-robed boys, in order that he might see 
more clearly the wonderful friar of whom he had 
heard his mother talk so frequently during the 
past few weeks. This was not such an easy mat- 
ter as it appeared, for the Frate's daily lecture 
to his classes had become the latest and most popu- 
lar diversion of the Florentine courtiers. 



Under the Rose Tree 19 

Here was a man not afraid to say frankly 
whatever he thought upon any topic, and pos- 
sessed of a mind at once versatile and profound, 
noble and sincere, who spoke with a peculiar elo- 
quence and magnetism which captivated all his 
hearers. Often when he spoke of sin and its pun- 
ishment, those flippant, careless men trembled, yet 
they went again and again to listen, because from 
his lips they were sure of hearing only the truth, 
stern though it might be. 

Guido and Bernardino finally succeeded in es- 
tablishing themselves well forward, for most of 
the men present knew the father, and smiling at 
the beautiful boy's eagerness, made way for the 
little fellow to occupy the place of observation 
which he seemed to desire so greatly. The Frate 
had just begun to speak as they entered, for it 
was already slightly past the hour for the lesson. 

It chanced that the portion of Scripture which 
he had that day selected as the text for his theme 
was one of Isaiah's prophecies concerning Mes- 
siah. That wonderful fifty-third chapter of 
Isaiah he read in his deep, rich tones, or rather 
he recited it, for his marvellous mind had ab- 
sorbed a great portion of the sacred volume, and 
it is said that he could quote from almost any part 
of the Bible at will : " Who hath believed our re- 
port, and to whom is the arm of the Lord re- 
vealed? He is despised and rejected of men, a 



20 The Angels of Savonarola 

man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. 
Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our 
sorrows, yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten 
of God and afflicted. He was wounded for our 
transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; 
the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and 
with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep 
have gone astray, we have turned every one to his 
own way, and the Lord hath laid on him the in- 
iquity of us all." 

The talk which followed was one full of pathos 
and of inspiration. It was upon the sufferings 
of our Lord as portrayed so graphically by the 
poet-prophet centuries before, and upon the neces- 
sity for that tremendous and awful sacrifice which 
the sins of the race demanded. 

11 He suffered and died for us," the Frate cried, 
his voice rising until it filled the garden and the 
surrounding cloisters, " and shall we give Him 
nothing in return for the agony and grief which 
He so lavishly expended upon us unworthy sin- 
ners? Shall we remain here, comfortable and con- 
tent in this magnificent city, delighting in the 
pleasures of art and the beauties of nature, enjoy- 
ing rich food and elegant apparel, and forget the 
poor and sorrowful ones at our gates? Do you 
imagine, men of Florence, that you can be follow- 
ers of the Lord Jesus Christ without bearing his 
cross after him? Do you think that you can be 



Under the Rose Tree 21 

like the divine Master unless you are willing to 
follow in his footsteps, to endure as he endured? " 

The Frate paused a moment, and lifted his ten- 
der blue eyes to the blue sky with a rapture in 
them that reminded his hearers of the look which 
Stephen's face must have worn when he cried, " I 
see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man 
standing on the right hand of God." 

"No," cried Savonarola, rising as he spoke, 
and stretching out his hands towards his hearers 
with an appealing gesture, " do not think that the 
way of the Cross is too hard, dear friends ! It is 
the blessed way, the best way to walk through this 
thorny and difficult wilderness-world. It leads 
right on, over mountain and stream, straight to 
heaven's gate. And if it led through fire and 
flood, through bitter persecution, or even by the 
bloody entrance of the martyr's death, it is still 
the most secure road to travel in, the only safe 
path ! " 

The monk ceased with eyes uplifted, as if he 
already saw above him that martyr's crown which 
was indeed always in his estimation the highest 
honor to which one of God's saints could attain, 
and then bowing his head, he pronounced the 
Latin benediction, the signal for his class to dis- 
perse. 

The white-robed boys now formed in procession, 
and marched away through the cloisters, chanting 



22 The Angels of Savonarola 

as they went the one hundred and third Psalm: 
11 Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within 
me, bless his holy name." 

Little Bernardino thought it was the very sweet- 
est singing he had ever heard, and he stood mo- 
tionless, gazing intently after the choristers until 
they disappeared through the great door of the 
convent. 

Fra Girolamo had seated himself again in the 
high-backed chair and was leaning his head upon 
his hand, as if wearied by the effort he had made. 

Several of the men among his auditors, who 
were already full of admiration for him, and who 
afterwards formed that great Piagnone party 
which sought to purify and uplift Florence, lin- 
gered around him and waited in respectful silence 
till Savonarola should be ready to converse with 
them. 

Among these was Bernardino's father, and the 
boy began to congratulate himself on the prospect 
which seemed to be so close before him, of actually 
approaching near the wonderful preacher. 

At last the Frate raised his head slowly and 
looked kindly at his friends. Dino, who was just 
in front of him, saw a face singularly rugged and 
homely in outline and lacking in all pretension to 
beauty of feature, yet unusually attractive and 
impressive. 

We, living four hundred years after his time, 



Under the Rose Tree 23 

still know quite well the appearance of Savonarola, 
from the sympathetic portrait which Fra Barto- 
lommeo has left to posterity, and we may fancy 
that we can trace in its features a curious resem- 
blance to the strong and roughly hewn countenance 
of that man in our own time and land who loved 
his fellows as deeply as did the Frate, and who 
as truly may be said to have given all he had — 
time and strength and heart — yes, even life itself, 
for them — Abraham Lincoln! Fra Girolamo's 
face could, indeed, be very stern and grave, as 
could that of Lincoln, when he contemplated 
wrong or injustice, but now as he looked down 
upon the child who stood before him it was full 
of a tender and sympathetic light which made its 
expression beautiful. 

His blue eyes, sparkling and deepset, which his 
contemporaries were accustomed to describe as 
brimming with liquid fire, were now suffused with 
tears, for the monk could never through his whole 
life speak concerning the suffering and death of 
our dear Lord without being moved by the strong- 
est emotion. 

He held out his hand to Dino, saying pleasantly, 
" Ah, friend Guido, so this is the little son you 
promised to bring some day to see me. I am very 
glad to know you, my child, but I am afraid the 
lesson of to-day was a difficult one for you to 
comprehend. Had I realized that I was to have 



24 The Angels of Savonarola 

so young an auditor, I should have tried to add 
some more suitable words, speaking concerning 
our Lord's love for little children and His readi- 
ness to have them come at all times to him." 

"That is what I hoped you would talk about, 
Father!" cried Dino, taking courage, as he looked 
up eagerly into the benignant countenance. " That 
is like the story of the picture which mother gave 
me. It hangs above my bed, and I look at it every 
night when I am saying my prayers. It is the 
Lord Jesus, you know, talking to the children, with 
one boy on his knee and several standing beside 
hint 

11 But I did understand a great deal of what 
you said to-day, for it is the same Jesus you told 
of who suffered and died for us, and we could not 
have been happy and glad, as we are, if he had 
not saved us in that way, could we? Then you 
said we must follow him all the way, even if it 
was the way which leads to the cross, and that is 
what I should like to do, Father! " 

The boy's beautiful face was lit up by an ex- 
pression at once noble and very winsome, and the 
worldly courtiers gathered near glanced at one an- 
other in surprise, as if questioning what manner 
of child this might be. Fra Girolamo himself 
was deeply touched, and laying his hand caress- 
ingly on the boy's fair curls, said, " My little Ber- 
nardino, you and I shall be friends from this time 



Under the Rose Tree 25 

on, I am sure. You must ask your good parents 
to allow you to come often and see me, and some- 
times you shall walk with me here in the garden, 
and we will talk together of these matters and 
others like them. 

"Now I must not keep you any longer, for 
some of my friends are waiting to speak of impor- 
tant questions ; but stay a moment, let me give you 
a token that we shall certainly meet again in 
friendship ! " 

So saying, the monk turned towards the great 
ros-e-tree under which he had been sitting, and 
lifting a slender hand, whose long tapering fingers 
were as delicate and finely formed as those of a 
woman, he gathered for the boy several of the 
glowing damask roses. 

Then, as he gave them to Dino, he bent and 
kissed him gravely on the forehead, while the boy, 
almost overcome by gratitude at this unlooked- 
for favor, could only murmur tremulous thanks as 
his father led him away to make room for the 
crowd of Florentine nobles who were waiting with 
question and discussion until the friar should be 
at leisure. 

Thus was begun that strong friendship between 
Bernardino and the Frate which was to grow and 
flourish during the eight years that followed, and 
which was to influence to a quite unexpected degree 
the lives of both. 



II 

AT THE CATHEDRAE 

The fame of the great Dominican preacher 
continued to grow steadily, not only in Florence 
but throughout the length and breadth of Italy, 
during the two years which followed Bernardino 
Salviati's first meeting with Fra Girolamo. 

From Padua and Naples and Perugia, even from 
Rome itself, there came men and women who were 
curious to listen to the oratory which was said to 
be more wonderful than anything that the world 
had yet produced. Hungry souls there were also, 
who came in true desire to be fed with the bread 
of life which this earnest monk knew how to give 
his flock, not offering them a pretended food which 
was in reality only chaff. 

Savonarola's sermons were full of gospel truth, 
for though he was in many respects thoroughly 
loyal to the Church of Rome, and was only Prot- 
estant in so far as every great and holy soul 
which protests against evil has always been Prot- 
estant, yet he held fast to all the simple cardinal 
truths of Scripture for which Luther and Calvin 
were later to make their great stand. He be- 
lieved and preached the complete sufficiency of 

26 



At the Cathedral 27 

Christ's sacrifice to satisfy divine justice, and the 
perfect willingness of God to receive and hear 
the suppliant who comes in Jesus' name, without 
any intervention of or intercession by the saints. 

He taught that no priestly absolution could be 
of any avail unless it was preceded by God's for- 
giveness, and that only by faith and submission 
could salvation come — not by virtue of outward 
works or penances. Also, he never hesitated to 
pour out fiery denunciations against the evils ex- 
isting in the church and the vices of the clergy. 

" The Church must be reformed before we can 
expect that the State will be ! " Fra Girolamo was 
accustomed to exclaim. " You force me to take up 
the cry of Jeremiah against your sins, and if a 
change does not soon come over the present con- 
dition of God's people, he will visit them with 
terrible w ( oes, even as he visited the children of 
Israel and Judah with ruin and devastation ! " 

The Frate's sermons brought such tremendous 
crowds to the convent church of San Marco that 
many had to be turned away, and he was finally 
persuaded to transfer the services to the larger 
building of the Cathedral. 

Very early one morning in the late autumn of 
the year 149 1 Bernardino Salviati might have been 
seen hurrying with his mother through the dimly- 
lighted streets of Florence towards the Duomo. 



28 The Angels of Savonarola 

Both were warmly wrapped in fur cloaks, for the 
morning was chilly, and a slight, misty rain was 
making everything damp and unpleasant. In 
front of them walked two serving-men, carrying 
lighted torches, for it was still so early that the 
first faint streaks of dawn were only just beginning 
to show themselves in the east. 

11 Mother," said Bernardino, shivering a little 
even under his warm wrap in the damp air, 
11 why would not father come with us this morn- 
ing, though we begged him to do so?" 

Maria Salviati sighed, and did not answer for 
a moment. Then she said, " I think, Dino, that 
your father is anxious about Fra Girolamo, and 
that is why he is unwilling to go and listen to him 
as he used to be so fond of doing. Your father 
loves our dear friend as much as we do, but lately 
he seems to feel very certan that the Frate will 
soon bring down upon himself some terrible pun- 
ishment from the chief authorities of the church 
if he continues in his bold preaching. You know 
that only last week the Papal Legate was here 
and held several conversations with Savonarola. 
No one seems to be certain what was the result 
of them, but we may feel quite sure that our brave 
friar never acceded for a moment to any demands 
made by the Pope." 

" Of course he would never do anything which 
he did not think right, mother dear," answered 



At the Cathedral 29 

Dino cheerily, quite undaunted by his mother's 
anxiety, which indeed he was too young to com- 
prehend very clearly. " Our Frate knows far bet- 
ter than any one else, even bishop or Pope, the 
difference between right and wrong, and I do not 
see how any one in the world could have the right 
to stop his preaching or to tell him what he ought 
to say! " 

Maria Salviati smiled a little at the boy's sim- 
plicity, but she sighed again the next moment as 
she remembered how soon his eyes might be opened 
by some startling event which would perhaps bring 
disastrous consequences upon his friend Fra Giro- 
lamo. 

In the two years which had just passed Bernar- 
dino had grown rapidly, and was developing into 
a tall, symmetrical lad. He was now in his elev- 
enth year, and showed signs of unusual maturity 
at that age, which made his parents sometimes 
very proud of him, and sometimes rather anxious 
as to what his future might be. " I am not quite 
sure, Father," Guido Salviati had said one day to 
Savonarola, as they walked together in the con- 
vent garden, " whether our little Dino is to become 
a remarkable genius, or to leave this wicked world 
altogether, but really he is so unlike other children 
that he sometimes alarms me ! " 

Fra Girolamo shook his head, smiling gently. 

"The boy is, perhaps, developing early in un- 



30 The Angels of Savonarola 

usual ways," he said, "but do not fear for him. 
In his case both heart and head are absolutely 
sound, and he has a very sweet and noble nature. 
I prophesy that he will one day become a great 
and good man, and I am sure that he is well-nigh 
as dear to me, my friend, as he is to you, his own 
parents." 

These kind words, spoken by the good monk, 
were of great comfort to Guido, and they proved 
in the end true, as did so many other of Savona- 
rola's wise sayings. 

The boy returned the great preacher's affection 
with a love which was at once deep and enthusiastic, 
and during the time which had passed since their 
first meeting they had had many long and inter- 
esting talks together. 

Although Dino was too young as yet to be ad- 
mitted into the classes of Dominican novices or 
to come under the friar's actual tuition, yet Savon- 
arola, who had by this time been elected Prior of 
San Marco, and who was necessarily a very busy 
man, was never too greatly occupied to give a few 
moments to the boy who loved him and whom he 
included in the number of his " angels," as he was 
fond of denominating his favorite pupils. 

At length Bernardino and his mother had tra- 
versed the Piazza in the dim morning twilight 
and were standing before the great portals of the 
Duomo. Already such a vast crowd had collected 



At the Cathedral 31 

outside that it was very difficult to get anywhere 
near the entrance, but the two stout servants who 
accompanied them managed by dint of some push- 
ing and some persuading to force a pathway for 
the noble lady and her son through the densely 
packed mass of humanity until they found them- 
selves quite close to the door. 

Many of these people had already been waiting 
for an hour or more in the drenching mist, for so 
great was the desire to hear these wonderful ser- 
mons that nothing was deemed a hardship which 
would enable the thousands who loved Savonarola 
to come within the sound of his voice. 

The assembling multitude was a very silent one, 
and when at last the doors were thrown open and 
they entered the vast, dimly-lighted building, it 
was almost without any noise or bustle that they 
took their places and waited until the services 
should begin. The time did indeed seem very 
long to Bernardino before he heard the sound for 
which he was listening, the far-off echo of boyish 
voices approaching gradually nearer and nearer 
through the long cloisters, until at length the pro- 
cession of white-clad " angels " appeared through 
the chancel-door and marched, still singing, up 
and down the aisles of the cathedral. 

How Bernardino wished that he might become 
one of them and live near his beloved friar in a 
little cell — one of those same tiny cells which the 



32 The Angels of Savonarola 

visitor to Florence to-day may see close to the 
bare study which the great monk himself occu- 
pied. 

But the boy knew in the depths of his heart 
that his father would never consent to his becom- 
ing a monk, and he also knew full well that never 
would he be willing to take the tremendous step 
without his parents' consent. Many times he had 
spoken to Fra Girolamo concerning the matter, 
and each time his kind friend had counselled him 
wisely and firmly. 

"Do not think, my son," he would say, "that 
our God desires the severing of natural ties or the 
breaking of hearts in a home, save when he vouch- 
safes some special and direct call to the individual 
soul. In my own case I did indeed leave a father 
and mother who were dearer to me than life it- 
self, and tore myself from a home which was to 
me as heaven upon earth, but it was because our 
loving Father gave me a token which would 
admit of no disregarding. He called me to the 
Church for some wise purpose, hidden then, but 
since clearly revealed, and that purpose was none 
other than the salvation of Florence. 

" With you, my son, however, it is far different. 
I feel very certain that you can do more good 
to the cause of Christ in this city outside the 
Church than even within it. Florence needs most 
sorely men just such as you will, I trust, become — 



At the Cathedral 33 

men who love God simply and truly, and who 
serve him and the city without guile." 

While Bernardino was waiting patiently in the 
Cathedral on that November morning, watching 
the first rays of the sun steal through the richly- 
stained glass of the great windows and listening 
to the almost continuous anthems which came from 
the boy-choir, he had plenty of time to think over 
these words of the friar and many others like 
them. 

At his side his mother knelt, fingering her ros- 
ary and murmuring over her Pater-nosters and 
Ave Marias. But Dino, though he tried to re- 
main in a reverent frame of mind, and at times 
prayed earnestly with supplications quite original 
and words that were widely different from any 
found in the prayer-book, was unable to find very 
much comfort from repeating over and over again 
the few Latin syllables which his mother loved 
so well. 

A saying of Savonarola's uttered one day to his 
class had made a great impression upon the boy's 
memory, and had taught him much concerning the 
true nature of prayer. 

" Words," cried the great teacher, "are not 
really indispensable to an act of prayer. When 
a man is truly rapt in the spirit an uttered prayer 
becomes rather an impediment, and ought to yield 
to that which is wholly mental. Thus it will be 



34 The Angels of Savonarola 

seen how great a mistake those commit who pre- 
scribe a fixed number of prayers. God does not 
delight in a multitude of words, but in a fervent 
spirit." 

Bernardino was still pondering this thought, 
and endeavoring to approach his Heavenly Father 
in a spirit of true adoration, when from the far- 
off stalls of the choir the clear young voices burst 
into a magnificent Te Deum. This was always a 
welcome sound to the congregation, for it signi- 
fied that their period of expectancy was almost over 
and that it would soon be time for the preacher 
to make his appearance. 

11 We praise Thee, O God," sang the melodious 
voices, "we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord. 
All the earth doth worship Thee, the Father ever- 
lasting. To Thee all angels cry aloud." 

As they uttered these words some of the women 
whispered to one another that the sweet songsters 
were well-named " angels," for no one had ever 
listened to such music upon earth before! 

About half-way through the Te Deum, however, 
there occurred a somewhat singular disturbance in 
the church, which was a surprise to every one, it 
was so foreign to the ordinary customs of Savon- 
arola's congregations. 

While the singing continued without pause two 
men were observed pushing .their way up tfhe 
crowded main aisle and endeavoring to secure 



At the Cathedral 35 

places for themselves well towards the front in 
the assembled multitude. They were both 
wrapped in long, dark cloaks, and the voluminous 
folds of silken mufflers almost entirely hid their 
heads and faces, yet the richness of these same 
garments and a certain haughtiness of bearing and 
gesture alike proclaimed them to be of noble rank. 

That they wished very much to maintain their 
incognito was quite evident, but also that they 
had by no means succeeded in the attempt was 
also evident. No sooner had the crowd caught 
sight of the first man, whose broad shoulders and 
magnificent physique were poorly concealed even 
by the long enveloping cloak, than a whisper ran 
from lip to lip, " See, that is Lorenzo de' Medici ! 
The Magnifico himself has come to hear our 
Dominican preach ! " 

Nevertheless the people made no outward dem- 
onstration, and even the murmur of recognition 
was soon hushed, for they all stood in great awe 
of the proud man who ruled them with an iron 
rod, and they understood quite well that he would 
by no means tolerate with patience the effort to 
penetrate his disguise. Besides, the fact that 
Lorenzo should have deigned to come at all to 
listen to Savonarola's preaching was in itself a 
most anVazing one. 

From the earliest moment when his influence in 
Florence had begun to assert itself Fra Girolamo 



36 The Angels of Savonarola 

had shown his entire disapproval of Lorenzo's 
government, and had never hesitated to express 
that disapprobation. When his fellow-monks 
elected him Prior of San Marco and suggested 
that, according to custom, it would be the proper 
thing for him to go and tender his respects to the 
ruling despot, Savonarola firmly refused to do so. 
His thoroughly honest nature made him unwilling 
to offer any semblance of a reverence which he 
certainly could not feel for the haughty sovereign. 

Strange to say, this treatment did not seem to 
make Lorenzo very angry. He probably felt for 
the remarkable monk a vague sort of admiration, 
recognizing in him a character far above his own. 
There was too in Lorenzo something of greatness 
and nobility of soul which made him long for 
the Frate's esteem, even while he must have real- 
ized that he did not deserve it. 

Once he had sent a high state official to ask that 
Savonarola would soften his denunciations of the 
Government, or else would leave the city alto- 
gether, and it was then that the monk had replied 
by sending him that singularly prophetic message 
which was so exactly fulfilled. 

" Tell your master," cried the Dominican, " that 
it is he who shall go away from Florence, but it 
is / who shall remain here." 

Little did Lorenzo comprehend, though it is 
probable that he was even then somewhat im- 




GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA— 1452-1498. 



At the Cathedral 37 

pressed by the sombre significance of the prophecy, 
how soon it was to be fulfilled by his own death, 
nor how entirely the dominion which he had ex- 
ercised with so haughty a sway over beautiful 
Florence was to pass into the hands of the humble 
Dominican friar, a rival apparently so little to be 
feared by the great and mighty noble ! 

But now the slight tremor of excitement caused 
by Lorenzo's suspected presence had passed away, 
and a hush of intense expectancy made itself felt 
throughout the assembled multitude. 

The last triumphant strains of the Te Deurn 
were echoing through the cathedral: "O Lord, 
let Thy mercy be upon us, as our trust is in Thee. 
O Lord, in Thee have I trusted; let me never be 
confounded." 

Silently the people watched, as the black-robed 
figure of their favorite teacher came out from the 
shadows of the arches and mounted the steps of 
the pulpit beneath the dark circle of the dome. 
At last the great voice poured itself forth, filling 
the vast auditorium with a volume of sound at 
once rich and sympathetic. 

Perhaps no orator has ever possessed a voice 
so marvellous as Savonarola's. It was so musical 
that its softest accents were like the rippling of 
water over pebbles, and so far-reaching, when 
raised to its full compass, that listeners in the most 
distant portions of the huge cathedral could hear 



38 The Angels of Savonarola 

distinctly every syllable he uttered. It was a voice 
which could melt men to tears by its tenderness 
and pathos, or lift them to heights of unbounded 
enthusiasm and rapture by its swelling accents. 

But though the voice of Savonarola was much 
in itself, and though it sometimes seemed to have 
a power almost supernatural over the population 
of Florence, yet it was really the soul behind the 
voice which actually swayed the people. It was 
because they so loved and trusted the character of 
the great preacher, who never played them false, 
never deceived them, but who dared to give them 
undistorted truth as he saw it, that his words were 
so able to move and touch them. 

Savonarola began his sermon that morning by a 
simple and practical delineation of the Christian 
life and what it should be for the individual soul 
which desires to love and follow Jesus Christ as 
Lord and Master. His text was a passage from 
St. Paul's First Epistle to the Corinthians : 

" For other foundation can no man lay than 
that is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if any 
man build upon this foundation gold, silver, pre- 
cious stones, wood, hay, stubble, every man's 
work shall be made manifest: for the day shall 
declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire ; and 
the fire shall try every man's work of what sort 
it is. If any man's work abide which he hath built 
thereupon, he shall receive a reward. If any 



At the Cathedral 39 

man's work shall be burned he shall suffer loss; 
but he himself shall be saved; yet so as by fire." 

The monk began by saying that faith in the 
Lord Jesus Christ and in his atoning work was 
the only sure foundation-stone upon which the 
noble structure of each Christian character could 
safely be made to rise. Into the building of this 
superstructure there ought to enter three great 
principles, which should serve as the main supports 
of the whole: first, the fear of God; second, love 
for others; and third, a complete and systematic 
denial of self and of the baser passions. 

"The fear of God/' said the friar, "must in- 
deed be the chief and central support of our whole 
edifice. For unless the soul of man truly rever- 
ences and adores its Maker, it cannot possibly love 
in any genuine or unselfish way its brother-men, 
neither can it know what self-denial really means. 
He who loves his Creator in truth will, without 
doubt, love and desire to help those brothers and 
sisters who are children of the same great family, 
and will also strive to make himself a worthy child 
of that wise and benevolent Parent. 

11 1 beseech you, my brethren," cried Savonarola, 
"begin to erect at once on the foundation-rock of 
faith in our Redeemer's sacrifice these three solid 
pillars, without which your building will be all 
in vain, and then go on to fashion, leaning upon 
them, an edifice which will not totter and fall, but 



40 The Angels of Savonarola 

which will stand the searching flames of that last 
great trial ! For I say unto you truly, my friends, 
that your work, the work that you shall accom- 
plish or endeavor to accomplish in this life, is 
going to be put through a fiery ordeal which alone 
can thoroughly determine of what sort it is. 

11 Do you know what kind of articles will best 
stand that scorching furnace, that furnace which 
is God Himself? — for He verily calls Himself a 
consuming fire. I will tell you some things which 
cannot be in danger of destruction therein, but 
which will emerge as pure gold from the refiner's 
assaying. 

"They are the hours spent beside the bedside 
of the sick and suffering, the money freely given 
to the poor, of which the world will never hear, 
the cheerful encouragement held out to some 
weary one by a soul perhaps as weary but more 
courageous, the conquering of some tremendous 
temptation by God's help, the sacrifice of wealth 
or ambition for the good of others; these are parts 
of that structure, my friends, which no fiery trial 
can burn up; they are pure gold, and will con- 
tinue forever, even as long as the immortal soul 
dwells in that blessed country which God's chil- 
dren shall inhabit to all eternity! 

" But there are other substances of which some 
of you seem to be forming your dwellings here 
upon earth, and against which I would desire 



At the Cathedral 41 

earnestly to warn you, for they are most danger- 
ously inflammable. They will not abide the day 
of his coming, they cannot pass through the re- 
finer's lire. 

" Some of you who build in this loose and un- 
stable way may indeed be true though erring dis- 
ciples of our only Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. 
You may at the last be saved — be snatched by a 
wonderful miracle from eternal death — but alas, 
your whole life-work will perish, and you your- 
selves will suffer loss, a loss how great and terrible 
I may not even try to estimate. 

11 To be saved only so as by fire! Ah, my 
brethren, that will be a sad estimate to be written 
against any man's earthly existence. Better than 
not to be saved at all, you say. Truly, I grant 
that, yet how dreadful to see the whole fabric of 
one's hopes and dreams crumble away and perish 
utterly because it is constructed completely of 
dross! What sort of things will enter into that 
destructible combination? I will enumerate a few 
of them: the lust of the flesh, the pride of life, 
the deceitfulness of riches. 

" Oh, you who are loving this world more than 
the thought of the world to come, how earn- 
estly do I cry unto you to awake from the delusion 
which makes you think it so important and so pre- 
cious ! Soon you are going to leave it, this beau- 
tiful earth, with its jewels and its treasures. 



42 The Angels of Savonarola 

" You may be dressed in gorgeous robes of silk 
and velvet now, but what certainty have you that 
when you pass from this sphere Jesus will be wait- 
ing to welcome you to his banqueting-house, and 
that He will put on you the white marriage gar- 
ment of his righteousness and the golden ring 
which pledges his redeeming love? 

"You may be the possessors now of palaces 
furnished with wonderful paintings by our great- 
est masters, and tapestries woven in the richest 
colors, but what guarantee have you that when you 
leave these pleasant homes, as so soon you must, 
to the generations who shall follow you in quick 
succession, what certificate do you possess that you 
will enter then into the many mansions which our 
dear Lord said he was preparing for his true dis- 
ciples? Are your title-deeds as sure to a dwell- 
ing-place within the gates of pearl as they are to 
your houses inside the gates of Florence? 

"Alas, my people, I tell you, No! Many of 
you are in a state of great danger, and if you con- 
tinue building as you have begun, your work 
will most surely be entirely destroyed. I pray 
God you yourselves may be saved, but if you are, 
it will be, I fear, only so as by fire ! For be well 
assured, you who are living only for this world 
and storing up treasures which moth and rust will 
soon corrupt and cause to perish — be very sure that 
no gold nor precious stones can ever buy you an 



At the Cathedral 43 

entrance into the Eternal City of God nor pur- 
chase his divine favor when you have ceased to 
merit it. 

11 Do you think for a moment that all the treas- 
ures which the Magnifico has heaped up for him- 
self in! his impregnable vaults and unassailable 
caskets will be fraught with the smallest power to 
rescue him from that terrible fate which is in 
store for him? Will they answer to God for all 
the blood which he has unjustly shed, for all the 
cries of the orphans and widows whom he has 
ruined to obtain them ? I tell you No ! He must 
soon pass away and leave them all, hearing as he 
descends to the depths of that awful punishment 
which awaits him only the melancholy greeting of 
those other fallen souls who have preceded him 
there — *0 Lucifer, Son of the Morning, how art 
thou fallen, and become like unto one of us! ' " 

Savonarola's magnetic voice and eloquent ges- 
tures had always a measureless power over the con- 
gregations which assembled before him. But on 
this occasion the effect produced upon the immense 
audience gathered in the cathedral can with diffi- 
culty be described. 

Long before he had finished his appeal to their 
consciences, and his description of the fearful mis- 
take those made who were not building character 
of enduring substances, many of the women and 
a few of the men were weeping and the whole 



44 The Angels of Savonarola 

assembly was in a state of suppressed excitement. 
When, however, the matchless notes of his won- 
derful harangue echoed through the vast build- 
ing in that thunder of terrible denunciation against 
the magnificent Lorenzo, no idea can be formed 
of the panic which ensued. For almost every in- 
dividual in the multitude knew full well what the 
speaker himself was entirely ignorant of, that the 
potentate was actually present in person and was 
listening to those appalling words. 

But the panic of fear into which they were 
thrown was a peculiarly silent one. Not a per- 
son cried out or uttered a note of alarm, though a 
few women swooned and one or two of the chil- 
dren sobbed aloud. The influence which kept all 
in a state of such terrified quiet was their intense 
anxiety as to how Lorenzo would act in this situ- 
ation. Would he rise in his place and in turn de- 
nounce the daring monk, ordering him perhaps to 
cease from further preaching and leave Florence 
immediately? 

Bernardino was trembling violently from head 
to foot as he thought of this awful possibility, 
and weeping silently too, with his head upon his 
mother's shoulder. Maria Salviati was herself 
very white, and her great blue eyes were wide 
with suppressed fear. But she was a brave wo- 
man, and she knew well that in Savonarola Lo- 
renzo de' Medici had met his match — a man not 



At the Cathedral 45 

only as capable of ruling men as himself, but also 
one far greater/ because the power of pure good- 
ness and truth is always vastly stronger than that 
of evil and selfish passion/ 

So she waited calmly, feeling quite sure in her 
inmost soul that Lorenzo would never dare to 
assail the friar in his own church and pulpit, but 
that the Magnifico's guilty conscience would render 
him a humbled and helpless man before his ac- 
cuser. 

The sequel proved that Maria's intuition was 
the right one. For immediately, as the congre- 
gation tarried, the seraph notes of the boy-choir 
rose again in the strains of the Miserere, " Have 
mercy upon me, O Lord, according to thy loving 
kindness," and as the words echoed through the 
dim arches and up into the vast shadow of the 
dome, there was a slight movement in the crowd, 
and quickly a pathway w i as made through it for 
the two men, Lorenzo and his companion, who 
passed hurriedly down the main aisle and out 
through the wide doorway of the cathedral. 

The onlookers saw them go with feelings of 
intense relief, and those who were nearest at hand 
noticed that Lorenzo staggered perceptibly as he 
walked, and leaned heavily on the arm of his 
companion in a way which contrasted strangely 
with his usual haughty and athletic bearing. 



Ill 

LORENZO'S CONFESSION 

Spring had come once more to Florence, the 
spring of the year 1492, and again flowers were 
filling the gardens and fruit-trees were transform- 
ing themselves into pyramids of bloom. It has 
been well said that nowhere is there found a 
climate so like what one would fancy the climate 
of heaven might be as that of Italy in springtime. 

On one of those glorious days, in the beautiful 
garden of the Salviati palace, a pleasant little 
group had gathered in the warm afternoon sun- 
shine, under the falling pink blossoms of a great 
peach-tree. 

Maria Salviati was there, seated before a small 
round table covered with a dainty white cloth, 
upon which there were set out dishes of cake and 
sweetmeats and tiny glasses of wine. 

Near her on a wooden bench sat Fra Girolamo 
Savonarola, his dark cowl thrown back a little 
and his rugged features illuminated by a glow of 
unaccustomed enjoyment. 

On the grass at his feet lay Bernardino, look- 
ing up eagerly into the face of his revered 
teacher, and, pacing up and down on the gravel- 

46 



Lorenzo's Confession 47 

walk close by, was Guido Salviati, talking earnestly 
and pausing now and then with impressive ges- 
tures in front of the listening group. To an at- 
tentive observer it would have been evident that 
Guido was working himself into a state of 
excitement about some agitating matter, and that 
he was trying in vain to rouse his companions to 
a similar glowi of feeling. 

The subject was, in truth, a somewhat well- 
worn one, thoroughly and often discussed by these 
four friends when together. It was the present 
political state of Florence and the great abuses of 
the Medicean rule. But the wonted enthusiasm 
was quite lacking in Savonarola that afternoon. 
The sweet calm of the beautiful spring day had 
crept over him, and made him unusually happy 
and peaceful in a gentle human way, which was 
not often his privilege, so stormy was his environ- 
ment. 

He wanted only to sit there in the sunshine, with 
Maria's kind, hospitable face gazing at him across 
the table, and Bernardino's wistful, dark eyes 
looking lovingly up into his. Any interruption, 
any intrusion of life's hard and bitter things into 
that delightful hour, seemed to Fra Girolamo 
just then singularly unwelcome, so he spoke gently 
in reply to Guido's excited words, and said, 
11 Come, friend Guido ! let us forget for this one 
day the wrongs of Florence and the sins of Lo- 



48 The Angels of Savonarola 

renzo. Let us rest here together among the flow- 
ers, and remember for a while only how very fair 
nature is and how good is our God to give us 
unworthy sinners such beautiful sights and 
sounds! Almost it seems, here in your garden 
this afternoon, as if we had all been transported 
to the heavenly paradise, where sin and sorrow 
can never enter more." 

Guido was touched by the Frate's unaccustomed 
mood, and perchance felt a little ashamed of him- 
self for trying to rob that often-troubled soul of 
its short hour's respite from agitation. So he said 
no more, but sat down beside his wife and began 
to talk quietly about other things — the wonderful 
yield of peaches which they might expect that 
summer from the unexampled number of blossoms 
upon the great tree above their heads, and the 
beauty of a bed of gorgeous tulips *and daffodils 
which lay in the full sunshine near by. 

"That is my garden, Fra Girolamo," cried 
Bernardino gaily. " I helped put in those bulbs 
last fall, and father said I might have all the 
flowers to distribute as gifts among my friends 
this year. So I am going to pick you a great 
bunch to-day, and I think they will be just the 
thing to decorate the altar with, do not you? 
Would you rather have only white ones, or may 
I put in also a few of the yellows and reds?" 

The friar was about to make a smiling reply 



Lorenzo's Confession 49 

to the boy's rapid questions, when suddenly the 
heavy iron gates which led from the street into 
the palace-garden were thrown noisily open, and 
an agitated messenger, panting as if he had been 
running a long distance, came up the gravel path- 
way and paused in front of Guido Salviati. The 
man was dressed in the livery of the Medicis, and 
Guido recognized him immediately as one of their 
old servitors, who was a familiar figure in the 
streets of Florence, since he had been employed by 
the ruling family for a number of years. 

"What is the matter, Tomaso?" said Guido, 
quite surprised by this sudden entrance without 
ceremony of a servant into his own private domain. 
11 Is any great danger threatening the city, or do 
you perchance bring me news that Lorenzo has 
unearthed another antique fragment in his ex- 
cavations? " 

This remark was made with a somewhat ironical 
smile, for it was well known that the Magnifico 
regarded his discoveries of old statues and medals 
which had been buried for centuries in the ground, 
and which were relics of Greek civilization, as of 
more vital importance than the life or death of 
his Florentine subjects. 

The old man shook his head mournfully. 

" Alas, my lord! " he said, " a danger is threat- 
ening not the city, but my master himself, and I 
fear Lorenzo de' Medici will never again delight 



50 The Angels of Savonarola 

in a new discovery or look upon one of his treas- 
ures. I come on an errand which demands great 
haste, my lord, for the Magnifico is dying! " 

11 Dying! " broke forth in astonished chorus the 
voices of his four listeners. 

" Dying!" cried Maria, " and only last night 
he gave one of the most magnificent of all his 
gorgeous entertainments at the palace, and it was 
nearly sunrise this morning when, lying in bed, I 
heard distinctly the drunken shouts of the revellers 
returning home from the feast, and now you tell 
me that Lorenzo is dying! " 

"It is true, your ladyship," the old man con- 
tinued, turning towards Maria, " it is all quite true, 
as you say. My master did, indeed, entertain 
a number of his chosen friends in the banqueting- 
hall last evening, and I have never heard a more 
joyous party there, nor seen Lorenzo himself in 
gayer spirits. He was the life of the occasion, and 
his witty stories and rollicking songs kept them all 
laughing until the cocks began to crow. 

" But just after they had all left a peculiar 
change came over my master. He was on his way 
up the great stairway to his sleeping apartments, 
and I was following close behind him, when he 
cried out suddenly, and I am sure that he would 
have fallen backward if I had not caught him in 
my arms. His face was very white and he seemed 
almost fainting, but I helped him to his bed and 



Lorenzo's Confession 51 

sent for the physicians immediately. They have 
been with him* your ladyship, now for more than 
twelve hours, but I fear he is past their help al- 
ready, and that God has summoned him from this 
world. He is quite conscious, though in terrible 
agony, but he has made one request, and that is 
the occasion of my being here as his messenger." 

"What is that, Tomaso?" said Guido, looking 
pale and shaken by this unexpected information. 
11 1 would gladly do anything I could to make his 
last moments more peaceful." 

11 It is not of you, my lord, that Lorenzo asks 
this favor," Tomaso replied, "but of Fra Giro- 
lamo Savonarola, the Dominican monk, who, they 
told me at the convent, was spending an hour with 
you this afternoon." 

Tomaso turned with a respectful gesture as he 
spoke and glanced timidly at the friar, for, like 
most of those who belonged to the Medicean party, 
he stood in wholesome awe of the terrible preacher. 
Fra Girolamo's face showed evidences of intense 
surprise at these words. That Lorenzo de' Medici, 
his bitterest enemy, in a moment of great suffer- 
ing and perhaps of death should deign to ask of 
him a favor, was indeed a most astounding oc- 
currence. He did not reply at all, and Tomaso, in- 
terpreting his silence as an unfavorable omen, 
plucked up all his courage, and said eagerly: 

11 Surely you will not refuse a dying man, 



52 The Angels of Savonarola 

Father! He declares that there is not a single 
priest in Florence whom he can trust to tell him the 
truth save only yourself. He says you will have 
the courage and the judgment to inform him what 
he must do to escape the wrath of Almighty God, 
at whose bar he will soon be standing. He asserts 
that all the friars who have clustered about him, 
and who have flattered him in his happy days, are 
just a pack of liars and fools. They know nothing, 
and they can do nothing to ease his troubled con- 
science. 

" My poor master lies there, moaning in his 
great pain, and saying over and over again, 
4 Tomaso, Tomaso, as you love me, go and fetch 
me the Dominican monk, Fra Girolamo, for he 
and he only can help me!' Therefore I pray 
you, Father, not to deny his supplication, but to 
come without delay!" 

The aged man paused, out of breath with eager- 
ness and fatigue, and stood waiting silently. 

Savonarola did not reply to him, but he rose at 
once and turned to Maria Salviati and her hus- 
band, who were anxiously watching to see what he 
would do. 

The situation was such an astounding one that 
for a brief moment the suspicion flashed through 
Guido's mind that some foul play might pos- 
sibly be meditated; that Lorenzo's illness might be 
only a ruse to draw the friar into the clutches of 



Lorenzo's Confession 53 

the Medicean party; and that, once within the pal- 
ace-gates, he might not so easily get out again. 

But Guido dismissed the idea almost as quickly 
as it came, for there was something in the old 
servitor's demeanor and in the telling of his mes- 
sage which made doubt of its verity impossible. 

Before, however, Savonarola had time to speak, 
Guido had rapidly reached a conclusion, and he 
stepped forward immediately, saying to Tomaso, 
" If the Frate decides to go with you, I must be 
allowed to acccompany him ; only on that condition 
shall I consent to sanction his entrance into Lo- 
renzo's palace ! " 

11 Indeed, my master will be most happy if you 
will escort him thither, sir," cried Tomaso. " But 
I beseech you both to hasten, for while the friar is 
making his decision that immortal soul may be 
passing away, and the opportunity which he still 
has to influence its destiny may be lost forever ! " 

The old servant spoke solemnly, for he was 
really attached to Lorenzo, who possessed great 
magnetic power, and the sight of the dying man's 
remorse had filled him with pity for his anguish 
and a genuine desire to bring him relief. 

Savonarola now spoke for the first time, saying, 
44 Tomaso, I am quite ready to go with you, and 
shall be glad if I may be permitted to be of any 
help or solace to a soul in its last hour. That is 
indeed my chief mission in life, and the most im- 



54 The Angels of Savonarola 

portant service which any of my order can render. 
But you, friend Guido, would, I think, better not 
accompany me. I am convinced there is not the 
slightest danger in this mission, and if there were, 
I would far rather you were not involved in it for 
the sake of your wife and the boy! " 

As he said this he bent down and laid his hand 
tenderly upon Bernardino's clustering curls, as if 
he thought that he might possibly be caressing 
them for the last time. 

Probably some such premonition of threatening 
danger or trial darted through the child's mind 
also, for he cried out quickly, " Oh, take me with 
you too, dear friend! Let me go also with you 
and father! You will not leave me behind!" 

But his father answered quickly, " No, no, my 
son! There would be no propriety whatever in 
letting a small boy venture on an errand like this. 
It could not be a seemly thing for you to go into 
the death-chamber of such a man as Lorenzo de' 
Medici, and besides your place is here with your 
mother, to watch over and guard her while I am 
gone. You would not leave her alone surely!" 

Bernardino was very near bursting into sobs, 
but he struggled hard to keep back his tears, and 
silently embracing both the Frate and his father, 
he watched them, after bidding Maria farewell, 
go swiftly down the gravelled pathway and out 
through the iron gates. 



Lorenzo's Confession 55 

Then Bernardino threw himself on the turf at 
his mother's feet, weeping bitterly and crying out 
that something terrible was surely going to happen 
to those two people whom he loved better than 
all the world besides, and that never ought they 
to have gone into the palace of that wicked, dan- 
gerous man! 

Maria tried to comfort the boy with reassuring 
words, but she soon broke down herself, for the 
whole affair had startled and shocked her, though 
she was too brave a woman to keep back her loved 
ones from any duty, even if it seemed to be one 
filled with danger. 

As the mother and son wept together the two 
men were accompanying Tomaso across the broad 
Piazza and through the streets of the city until 
they reached the gates of the beautiful home of the 
Medicis. 

They entered without meeting any one, and 
found the palace in a state of utter confusion. 
Servants were flying hither and thither with 
frightened faces, or standing in little groups whis- 
pering together as if they expected each moment 
to see the King of Terrors himself appear through 
the wide doorway. The tremendous contrast be- 
tween the joyous life of Lorenzo's court yesterday 
and the blank despair of his dying-bed to-day was 
indeed sufficient to account for the stunned and be- 
wildered condition of his household. 



56 The Angels of Savonarola 

No one greeted Guido and the friar or even 
took any notice of their advent, but, guided by the 
servant, they passed silently through the hall of 
the palace from which the grand stairway 
ascended. In one corner of this vast room Guido 
noticed a pile of wet clay from which a graceful 
figure of Aphrodite was already emerging, and he 
guessed that only yesterday morning Lorenzo 
must have been amusing himself, as he was ac- 
customed to do, by watching the skillful fingers 
of his young protege, Michelangelo Buonarroti, 
fashion out of the plastic material any shape which 
his benefactor's whim might suggest. 

As they mounted the great staircase they met 
descending it two monks with troubled angry 
faces, who they knew from their dress must be- 
long to the order of Fra Marianos. 

These men had ever been Lorenzo's most 
ardent admirers and flatterers, but now in his hour 
of extreme danger and suffering the Magnifico had 
turned from them in utter disgust, and feeling 
that he could place no reliance on their honesty, 
had with an oath ordered them all out of his 
chamber. 

These monks cast malevolent glances at Savon- 
arola, whom they had long hated and feared, but 
they did not pause to speak, going hurriedly away 
from the palace as if some evil spirit were pur- 
suing them. 



Lorenzo's Confession 57 

Tomaso led his two companions on through 
long corridors, some of which were hung with 
priceless tapestries, and others decorated by por- 
traits of all the Medicis for generations back, and 
at last ushered them into an immense room where 
the level rays of the setting sun were streaming 
brightly through widely-opened windows. Oppo- 
site the doorway, and between two of the largest 
windows of this room, there was placed a huge 
carved bed, with polished pillars of mahogany 
supporting the silken canopy above it. 

The heavy curtains, embroidered with mytho- 
logical figures in gold and silver thread, were 
thrown broadly apart, and there in the middle 
of the bed, his face whiter than the pillow which 
supported his head, lay the dying Magnifico. His 
large dark eyes were open, and had in them an 
intent look, as if he were eagerly expecting some- 
thing. Four physicians were in the room, two of 
them compounding drugs in a small brazen mortar 
in one corner, and the others standing by the 
bed ready to note each new symptom of their 
patient. 

As soon as Lorenzo caught sight of the three 
men who now entered he quickly lifted his right 
hand, for he had not strength to raise himself up, 
and cried, " So you have brought him at length, 
Tomaso ! How very long you have been ! Now 
let every one leave the room at once ; for I must 



58 The Angels of Savonarola 

speak alone with the Frate. I desire his presence 
and that of no one else ; he only shall hear my last 
confession." 

Tomaso quickly led Guido and the physicians 
into a small ante-chamber and closed the door, 
leaving the friar alone with his dying enemy. 

Surely no interview could have been stranger 
than this one, and yet the very fact that Lorenzo 
should feel remorse, should desire in his last hour 
to know the way by which a repentant sinner may 
return to God, had in it much of hope and 
encouragement. 

Savonarola approached the bedside with noth- 
ing of sternness or contempt on his countenance, 
but with a tender, pitying light shining from his 
kind blue eyes. Lorenzo spoke first. 

" I have sent for you, Father," he said in a voice 
that was weak yet clear, " because I know well 
that I am very near death, and I can think of no 
other man in all this city who will certainly tell 
me the whole truth but yourself. There are many 
who would flatter me and lie to me as they have 
always done, miserable creatures that they are, 
but you, Father, are a real servant and minister 
of Almighty God. That I have always felt, 
although I have hated and despised the message 
you had to deliver. Even when I heard you 
preach that terrible sermon in the cathedral, I 
knew all you said was just — that my sins deserved 



Lorenzo's Confession 59 

it all, and that one day I should surely have to 
pay the penalty, even as you declared. That 
dreadful day has now come, Father, and I be- 
seech you first to tell me whether you think there 
is the slightest hope that my soul may yet be saved 
by God's extreme mercy?" 

Savonarola's face was full of compassion as he 
answered, " Lorenzo, you have indeed been a 
great sinner, and there are many things for which 
you deserve God's righteous indignation. Never- 
theless, so wonderful are his pity and his grace, 
that I doubt not for a moment the Saviour stands 
waiting to pardon you if you will comply with cer- 
tain conditions which he imposes and if you will 
implicitly trust in his promises." 

11 1 do indeed repose all my hope for salvation 
upon the forgiving love of Christ, whom I have 
so shamefully treated!" replied Lorenzo. " But 
there are certain events in my life, Father, which 
stand out with terrible distinctness, and which 
seem to discourage me utterly and to take away 
all my chance for pardon. 

11 Especially there are three horrible sins which 
I committed, any one of which, I am sure, would 
be enough to deter me from entering heaven, and 
these three crimes are: the sack of Volterra, the 
robbery of the Monte della Fanciulle, and the 
massacre of the Pazzi. Tell me, Father, can even 
God himself render my soul pure and innocent 



60 The Angels of Savonarola 

again when it has been stained by such dark blots 
as these? " 

Savonarola did not reply for a moment, but 
stood with bent head, as if almost overwhelmed 
by that list of terrible slaughters. 

He thought of all the ruin which this dying man 
had wrought, of all the happy homes which he 
had devastated, and of the thousands of inno- 
cent women and children whom he had merci- 
lessly butchered. His lips moved in silent prayer, 
as if he were beseeching God to give him wisdom 
in the answer he should make, and at length he 
replied slowly: 

11 Yes, Lorenzo, I do believe that there is salva- 
tion even for one like you, since our Redeemer 
died for just such sinners, and his sacrifice will 
avail to satisfy God's justice for every soul who 
really pleads the merits of that great ransom and 
trusts in it alone. 

11 But in order that you may be saved I think, 
my friend, that you must agree to do three things 
which I will now tell you of simply and clearly. 
If you will promise to perform them to the best 
of your ability, I feel certain that God will blot 
out forever from the Book of his Remembrance 
the record of those three dreadful crimes now 
written against your soul, and will make you holy 
and clean to stand before his judgment-seat. 

" First of all, you must believe firmly that God 



Lorenzo's Confession 6i 

is able to pardon you, and that he will do so for 
the sake of his dear Son." 

11 It seems almost too much to hope for, and yet 
I will try to believe it, Father! " replied Lorenzo 
in weak and trembling tones, for the excitement 
of the interview was telling upon him and he was 
visibly growing weaker. 

11 The second thing which you must do, Lo- 
renzo," continued Savonarola, " is to restore 
everything wrongfully acquired by you all through 
your life, so far as this is possible, retaining only 
so much for your children as will enable them to 
live comfortably after your death as private 
citizens." 

When he heard these words, and met the calm 
gaze of the friar, fixed upon him with unfaltering 
decision, Lorenzo groaned and moved his head 
restlessly from side to side upon the pillow, like 
one who strives to fight against fate, but who feels 
himself far too feeble for the contest. 

He did not answer at first, and it was evident 
that a fierce conflict was going on in his soul be- 
tween the mighty love which he still bore his mag- 
nificent earthly possessions and the overpowering 
fear he felt that he might eternally lose a heavenly 
treasure. At length the latter emotion tri- 
umphed, and Lorenzo said in a hoarse whisper, 
44 This also, Father, I promise you that I will do." 

44 The third thing necessary," continued the 



62 The Angels of Savonarola 

monk, in his gentle but unyielding voice, " is the 
most important of all, and I earnestly trust you 
will not refuse to perform it. It is that you shall 
restore to our beloved and beautiful city of Flor- 
ence that freedom which you have taken away 
from her, and that you shall ordain for her after 
your death a popular form of government accord- 
ing to republican usages." 

Lorenzo heard this last demand of the Frate 
with every appearance of increasing agitation and 
annoyance. So great was his excitement, indeed, 
that he seemed to have lost the power of speech. 
With a look, however, which showed plainly 
enough his utter refusal of this final request he 
pointed with his right hand towards the door, and 
then, giving a groan in which mingled angry con- 
tempt and hopeless despair, he buried his face in 
the pillow. 

Savonarola stood for a few moments gazing 
sadly down upon him, and then without another 
word left the apartment. 

Making his way with some difficulty through 
the confused maze of intersecting corridors, he 
found at length the great stairway, and began to 
descend it. Before he was half-way down, how- 
ever, he heard Guido Salviati calling to him and 
hurrying after him. Savonarola waited for his 
friend, and together they left the Medici palace 
and returned to the convent of San Marco. 



Lorenzo's Confession 63 

The friar walked on steadily and evenly like 
one in a dream, and it was not until they were 
almost home tha't Guido ventured to interrupt his 
solemn revery and to ask if Lorenzo had made a 
good confession. 

"He began well, truly," replied the monk, 
u but alas the grasp of this world was too strong 
upon his soul. He could not elude it even in dy- 
ing, and the work of atonement for the great sins 
of his life, which I hoped he would try to per- 
form, proved too much of a strain upon his love 
for temporal things. Before to-morrow morning 
dawns he will have passed away to that world 
where no earthly riches or honor can avail him, 
and the redemption of Florence must be a thing 
accomplished by other hands than his ! " 

In a few words he then told Guido the sub- 
stance of Lorenzo's confession, and with sad 
hearts the friends parted, realizing that a great 
opportunity had been lost and filled with a vast 
compassion for the misguided man who, in spite 
of undoubted genius and wonderful personal mag- 
netism, would leave to history only the remem- 
brance of a tyrannous rule and an enslaved city. 



IV 

THE BONFIRE OF VANITIES 

The seven years from 1489 to 1496 were 
strange ones in the history of Florence and 
crowded full of startling events. 

After Lorenzo's death in 1492, the city re- 
mained for a while in a state of great perturba- 
tion and unrest. Pietro de' Medici, Lorenzo's son, 
was a weak and incapable man, and had never 
really possessed any influence with the people. It 
was not long before in utter disgust at his pre- 
tentious egotism, the Florentines exiled him alto- 
gether and forbade him ever to show himself again 
inside the walls of their city. The tremendous 
power which Savonarola wielded over the popu- 
lar mind now continued to increase daily, and soon 
he practically held in his hands the whole direc- 
tion of civic affairs. 

But his sway was a purely moral and spiritual 
one. He occupied no office in the state, and 
though almost all the great reforms in the Gov- 
ernment of Florence took their origin from him, 
it was only as he suggested them in his sermons 
and forced public opinion to make them necessary. 

The throne from which he ruled was still his 
pulpit in the Cathedral, and for several years he 

64 



The Bonfire of Vanities 65 

exercised over Florence a unique dominion, unlike 
any rule which had ever existed. 

There was never in this noble and gentle heart 
one thought for himself or his own interest. He 
lived for his people, and he set before them the 
ideal which had so long dwelt in the depths of his 
own soul — the ideal of a city over which God 
himself should rule and from which evil and op- 
pression should be utterly banished. 

Every day the Florentines gathered in vast 
crowds at the Cathedral to learn what new plan 
the great leader had originated for them to carry 
out and what reforms he might suggest which 
they should inaugurate. Savonarola's most de- 
voted friends and followers were known as the 
Piagnone, or Puritan party, and Guido Salviati 
was one of them, as was also Francesco Valori and 
many another good man. But this party did not 
at any time embrace the whole number of the citi- 
zens. Even during the period of the monk's 
greatest popularity there existed still a remnant of 
those evil followers of Lorenzo whom he had 
named his Campagnacci or Comrades, with Dolfo 
Spini at their head, who were finally to work Fra 
Girolamo's ruin and death. The year 1495 
marked the very height of Savonarola's power, 
and after that it began to decline. 

It was in this year that the great Council of 
Florence, the Consiglio Maggiore, was appointed 



66 The Angels of Savonarola 

by his suggestion, and that many new and benefi- 
cent laws came from his pulpit throne for the 
welfare of the city. The people then seemed al- 
most a unit in their tremendous enthusiasm for 
him. So vast were the crowds which thronged 
the Duomo to hang upon his words that wooden 
galleries were erected on the sidewalks of the 
Cathedral and every foot of space was thus util- 
ized. 

These temporary galleries were usually filled 
principally by the Florentine youths whom Savon- 
arola loved so well, and whom he regarded as his 
especial charge. Among them he had wrought 
perhaps his most important and lasting reforms, 
for he had organized the boys of the city into com- 
panies and bands, appointing officers over them 
and drilling them to help in the work of reform 
for which he was struggling. So magnetic a 
power did he exercise over his " angels " that they 
would willingly have striven to perform his most 
difficult request. Many of these boys grew up to 
be noble and true men, and fought a good fight 
in the last struggle of the Florentine republic. 

But the happiest and brightest moments of 
Savonarola's life had passed away when the year 
1496 began. Previous to this for some months 
the Pope had been making every effort to subdue 
the Dominican's spirit, or else to get possession of 
his body. 



The Bonfire of Vanities 67 

The man who was at that time occupying the 
chair of St. Peter was Roderigo Borgia, one of 
the most wicked monsters known to history, and 
one whose reign was a disgraceful blot upon the 
annals of his church. Such a man could not long 
endure the reports which came to him of Savon- 
arola's teachings and of his vigorous warfare 
against all sorts of evil and impurity. These two 
human beings were as utterly opposed to one an- 
other as darkness is to light. 

So Roderigo plotted and schemed how best he 
might get rid of Savonarola. He was particu- 
larly desirous of enticing him to Rome, for then, 
he thought, it would be quite easy to imprison 
him in one of the dungeons of the Vatican, or 
better still, make a quick end of him by a certain 
subtle poison which this terrible man knew well 
how to compound and to administer. 

His first move was, under a pretence of great 
friendliness, to send one of his most important 
legates to Florence with a message for Savonarola 
that the Holy Father much wished his presence 
in Rome, that he might be profited by his preach- 
ing and instruction, of which he heard on all sides 
such very wonderful accounts. 

"Now if you will obey the Pope," added his 
ambassador, " and come to Rome in a friendly 
spirit, submitting yourself to his supreme author- 
ity, I am also even authorized to assure you that 



68 The Angels of Savonarola 

he will bestow upon you the red hat of a Cardi- 
nal." 

Savonarola replied that he would announce his 
answer in a few days. 

The legate had made his suggestion simply as 
a bribe and naturally did not dream that it would 
be known by any one except Savonarola himself. 
Imagine then his horror and dismay when, on go- 
ing to the friar's preaching service in the Duomo 
next morning, he heard the monk utter these start- 
ling words: 

" Should Alexander II. offer me a Cardinal's 
hat, thinking thereby to induce me to cease my 
condemnations of the sin and corruption which 
exist to-day throughout the church, in these words 
would I reply to him, i I want no other red hat 
but that of martyrdom, reddened by my own 
blood!'" 

After such an expression of opinion, it is need- 
less to say that the ambassador went home in dis- 
gust, to inform his master that nothing remained 
except to coerce the dauntless monk by open and 
continued hostility. 

Other plots made by Alexander failed to en- 
trap Savonarola, so in the early part of the year 
1496 the Borgia sent to him a letter or " brief," 
as it was called, ordering him to stop preaching 
and remain silent for a time. 

It may seem strange that the great Dominican 



The Bonfire of Vanities 69 

was willing to obey this command and submit to 
the orders of so corrupt a man. But we must 
recollect that Savonarola, unlike Luther and the 
later reformers, never had in his mind any idea 
whatever of leaving the Church of Rome or set- 
ting up an ecclesiastical organization of his own. 
His great hope was to reform the church from 
the inside, by expelling from it all that was evil 
and perverted and retaining the good which he 
knew so well how to extract from the mass of 
mistakes and errors by which it had become cor- 
rupted. 

That he failed utterly in his attempt to accom- 
plish this, and that his life-work for this reason 
did not seem to accomplish the great results it 
might had he seen matters in a different light, by 
no means lays Fra Girolamo open to any charge 
of wrong or even of faulty judgment. It is more 
than probable that, at the time and place in which 
he lived, no other course of action would have 
been possible to him. Men and events had not 
yet sufficiently matured to make such an exodus 
as Luther a little later conducted out from the 
body of the Romish Church possible in Italy at 
that date. 

Savonarola's mission was indeed a peculiar one, 
but we cannot doubt that God most directly ar- 
ranged all things for him, and guided him in every 
step of his life, over-ruling the very saddest and 



70 The Angels of Savonarola 

strangest portions of it for His own glory and 
for the ultimate good of His children. The bene- 
ficial effects of the Frate's noble sacrifice of him- 
self for humanity can never be adequately mea- 
sured in this world. They will stretch in widen- 
ing circles on through eternity's ages. The mem- 
ory of his noble and lofty purpose is to-day put- 
ting strength and courage into many a soul over- 
borne by the misunderstanding and ingratitude of 
others, and it will continue to do so as long as 
the world lasts. 

Bernardino Salviati's fifteenth birthday had 
passed, and he had developed into a tall athletic 
youth. It was just at this time, the middle of 
February, 1496, that Savonarola in submission to 
the commands of the Pope became for a time si- 
lent. But though he consented not to preach any 
more startling sermons in the Duomo, his influence 
with the people remained almost as great as ever, 
and the Piagnoni became every day more devoted 
and more enthusiastic. The Carnival that year, 
especially, showed the reform which Fra Girolamo 
had been able to institute, for it displayed several 
altogether new and unusual features. 

Up to this time the boys of Florence had been 
rather notorious for their unruly and boisterous 
character. They were very fond of playing all 
manner of wild pranks upon the passers-by, and 
particularly in the days immediately before Lent 



The Bonfire of Vanities 71 

began they were unrestrained by any sort of au- 
thority. Quite frequently accidents occurred from 
these mad capers, and often the boys refused to let 
people go through the barriers which they erected 
across the streets without the payment of con- 
siderable sums of money as fines. 

But this year all was changed. Now the lads 
had themselves become interested in the good 
work of the monk, and they kept the Carnival by 
dressing, not in masques and foolish costumes, but 
in white robes with olive wreaths on their heads, 
and they carried in their hands small red crosses, 
the badges of Savonarola's party. They were 
still allowed to collect small sums of money, not 
by demanding it peremptorily from citizens, but 
by asking them politely for it. But this money 
was never to be kept for their own uses. It was 
to be employed in the beneficent work of founding 
philanthropic banks or exchanges where the poor 
people could borrow money at a very low rate of 
interest. 

Before the first rays of the sun had begun to 
illumine the glistening spires and campaniles of 
Florence, on the last day of the Carnival of 1496, 
Maria Salviati awoke her son, according to the 
promise she had made him on the previous even- 
ing. 

Bernardino sprang up eagerly at the sound of 
his mother's voice and began to make himself 



72 The Angels of Savonarola 

ready quickly for the great events of the day. 
Soon he was out of the house and entering the 
Piazza, where he joined the throng of white-robed 
youths who were gathering in the dim light and 
forming in a long procession. 

Dino walked beside his cousin and dearest 
friend, Giovanni Valori, and these two, who were 
among Fra Girolamo's most devoted admirers, 
did much to preserve order in the ranks and to 
keep the time in the chanting, which began as 
soon as the lines were completed. Then the pro- 
cession, led by Fra Domenico, Savonarola's chief 
helper, started on its way towards the Duomo. 
Never had the morning air seemed fresher or 
more invigorating to Dino, and never had his 
heart beat more gaily with hope and courage. 
The sky was very clear, and the stars still shone 
brightly, while in the east a faint rosy flush was 
beginning to creep above the horizon. 

Bernardino realized in some degree that his 
dear friend Fra Girolamo was in danger, and he 
felt most strongly the cruelty of the Pope's com- 
mand for silence. Yet he was sure, with the light- 
hearted trust of boyhood, that all would certainly 
be made right in a little while, that the purity and 
goodness of the Frate's teachings must triumph 
over the evil and wrong of those who opposed 
him, and that in a few months not only Florence 
but all Italy would be at his feet, welcoming him 



The Bonfire of Vanities 73 

as a great prophet and deliverer from sin and 
disaster. 

Giovanni Valori felt just as Bernardino did, for 
the cousins had often discussed the question to- 
gether, and they were both enthusiastic young op- 
timists. 

" I tell you, Giovanni," Bernardino would cry, 
as they paced together the long corridors of the 
Valori palace, "the day is not far off when you 
and I shall be men, and when we shall see Florence 
in very truth transformed into a Holy City, the 
capital of a new and reformed Italy, the land 
where only Christ is King, and whence Satan's 
rule shall have been in very truth banished! I 
do not know how this is to come about, nor am 
I sure that the Frate himself knows, but God will 
reveal it all to him in time, even as he has already 
disclosed so many wonderful events beforehand 
which have all come to pass ! " 

This confidence in the friar's inevitable success, 
and in the divine character of his mission and 
work for Florence and for the world, was strong 
in Bernardino's young heart on that February 
morning as he walked swiftly onward, thinking 
gladly of the Holy Sacrament of which he was 
about to partake and of the exciting events which 
were to crowd the long day. Very sweet and 
clear rose his strong soprano voice, as he led the 
other boys in singing: 



74 The Angels of Savonarola 

" Rend your hearts and not your garments, and 
turn unto the Lord your God, for he is gracious 
and merciful, slow to anger and of great kind- 
ness." 

Like angels, surely, seemed the white-robed lads 
as they wound in and out through the intersecting 
streets, and from many a window mothers' faces 
bent, watching them eagerly and thanking God 
for the good man who had rescued these young 
lives from temptation and had led them to love 
purity and truth. 

11 Lord, spare thy people and bless thy heri- 
tage; govern them and lift them up forever!" 

The final notes of the chanting ceased as the 
white lines paused before the great doors of the 
Duomo, and then silently and solemnly the lads 
paced down the long aisles to their stations as- 
signed. So many there were of them that they 
half filled the vast edifice, and the sight of their 
ardent faces raised in Fra Girolamo's heart a 
strange ecstasy and joy as he stood before them 
and prepared to administer the Holy Sacrament. 
They were to him like his own children — these 
youths for whom he had prayed and toiled so un- 
ceasingly. 

The whole force of his great and loving nature, 
denied the ordinary human affections, had poured 
itself out upon his "angels" — a term which had 
gradually been extended from applying only to 



The Bonfire of Vanities 75 

the Dominican novices until it took in all the lads 
belonging to the Piagnone party. In them he saw 
the only hope for the holy city concerning which 
he dreamed, the only chance that God's kingdom 
of chastity and righteousness might really be es- 
tablished upon earth. 

The dreams which occupied the monk's lofty 
soul on that February morning could never be 
fulfilled in this world, yet who shall say that some- 
where in the eternal ages of God's unfathomable 
purpose he will not find their full completion, and, 
seeing of the travail of his soul, be satisfied? 

It was Bernardino's turn at last to kneel before 
his beloved friend, and looking up into his face 
to receive from him the consecrated wafer. Very 
kindly did the deep blue eyes gaze down at the 
boyish countenance, so full of noble ardor and 
enthusiasm, and a special prayer rose from the 
Frate's soul that this lad might have a peculiar 
blessing, that his life might be made of much serv- 
ice to Florence and to God's kingdom upon earth, 

Perhaps Dino was conscious that the friar was 
praying particularly for him. At any rate there 
came into his soul at that moment a glow of de- 
votion to his Saviour and to the heavenly King- 
dom that suffused his whole being. It seemed to 
him that he desired nothing of this world's honor 
or glory, nothing save to contend for Jesus Christ 
and win battles for the honor of his great name. 



y6 The Angels of Savonarola 

" Thy soldier let me be, dear Lord," he prayed, 
"even if I die fighting in thine army!" 

Little did the boy think as he knelt there, free 
from the anticipation of coming trouble on that 
pleasant winter morning, that his prayer was to 
be answered in a way he could not possibly have 
guessed, and that real warfare was to enter all too 
soon into his happy young life! 

The service at the Cathedral was a short one, 
and the youths, having been dismissed, passed 
quietly but swiftly out through the wide doors. 
They did not form again into regular lines, but 
with gay shouts of "Viva Gesu, Viva Firenze!" 
"Hail to Jesus Christ, Hail to Florence!" they 
hurried to the completion of their work in the 
great Piazza. The whole of every day for a 
week past had been busily spent in this labor, 
which was the preparation of an entirely novel 
and peculiar feature of the Carnival celebration. 
The suggestion for it had probably arisen origi- 
nally in the brain of Fra Domenico, Fra Girola- 
mo's dearest friend, and the one of all the Domini- 
can monks who aided him most successfully in his 
work among the boys. 

This good father appreciated perhaps even more 
fully than did his graver and sadder brother that 
childish spirits cannot be repressed beyond a cer- 
tain degree, and that it would be quite impossible 
to expect the lads to relinquish willingly all their 



The Bonfire of Vanities 77 

old accustomed sports of Carnival-time without 
offering them some equivalent of amusement and 
excitement. So it was planned that in the centre 
of the Piazza della Signoria there should be 
erected a huge pyramid formed of unusual and 
surprising materials, which when night came 
should be set aflame, forming what was called a 
" Bonfire of Vanities." This pyramid was now 
almost completed, and the view of it which met 
the eyes of Bernardino and his cousin Francesco, 
with the bright rays of the rising sun gleaming 
upon it, was indeed a strange one. 

On the top of a huge tree-like structure which 
rose in the centre of the square there was perched 
a ridiculous figure, supposed to be a caricature 
of the old wicked Carnival as it was formerly 
kept. All around the trunk of the tree and lean- 
ing upon its branches had been nailed boards 
which formed tier after tier of shelves, and upon 
these were piled in wildest confusion objects of 
every description, all coming under the title of 
"Vanities," and destined that evening to perish 
in the flames even as the old Carnival was forever 
to disappear and give place to the new and better 
methods of celebrating it. 

It is quite impossible to enumerate all the kinds 
of articles which constituted that curious collec- 
tion. There were spangled dresses and hideous 
masks which had been used at former Carnival- 



78 The Angels of Savonarola 

times. There were dainty kid slippers, white 
satin gowns, and wreaths of artificial flowers in 
which fascinating maidens had been accustomed 
to appear at the dance on that last evening before 
Lent began. Then there were pictures of the 
Greek gods and goddesses which their owners of 
the Piagnone party felt were no longer suitable 
subjects for them to gaze upon, there were books 
which contained evil and wicked stories and songs, 
there were playing-cards and dice, and all sorts 
of games connected with or suggestive of gam- 
bling. 

Looked at from a distance the pyramid pre- 
sented the spectacle of a mass of gorgeous color 
and iridescent light, for enough real and imita- 
tion jewels mingled in the array to collect and re- 
fract the sun's rays with quite dazzling effect. 

Fra Domenico stood at the base of the struc- 
ture, gazing up at it, and as he saw Bernardino 
and Giovanni approaching he beckoned them has- 
tily to his side. 

11 See, my children," he said when they came 
near, " much of this work has been accomplished, 
and is well done too. You have both helped nobly 
in it, but I have still some finishing touches for 
you to perform. Here, Giovanni, you are very 
light and nimble, my son; I want you to climb up 
to that third tier of shelves and arrange those red 
velvet cloaks and satin masks more gracefully, 



The Bonfire of Vanities 79 

filling up an empty space which does not look well 
in the middle. 

" For you, Bernardino, my careful boy, I have 
another task which I could not well entrust to any 
one else. I would like you to take this horn of 
powder, and climbing up just as high as you pos- 
sibly can, empty it down into the hollow of the 
pyramid. Fra Silvestro tells me that though much 
wood and inflammable substance has been stored 
there, the gun-powder has been forgotten, and 
without it we shall not have that mighty explo- 
sion and tremendous crash downward which will 
make the Spirit of the old Carnival up there tum- 
ble suddenly over into the midst of the flames, 
where he so rightly belongs." 

Giovanni and Dino undertook their appointed 
tasks with eagerness, and were soon climbing skill- 
fully and lightly upwards from shelf to shelf. 
When Dino reached the top he stood just beneath 
the gigantic and ugly figures of the Carnival, and 
giving a great shout of " Viva Firenze! " he emp- 
tied the powder-flask into the heart of the pyra- 
mid. 

As soon as both boys were safely on the ground 
again they found Fra Domenico ready to send 
them and a number of their companions off upon 
another errand. 

11 My children," he said, " you see that, while 
the general aspect of our pyramid when viewed 



80 The Angels of Savonarola 

from a distance is most successful and appears to 
be entirely completed, on a nearer examination the 
fact reveals itself that there are on the lower 
shelves many vacant spots which I should be glad 
to see filled. 

" Now I should like to have you older lads go 
out again this morning upon a final quest through 
the city, and try if you cannot bring in to me a 
few more vanities which really ought to be sur- 
rendered for the spiritual good of their posses- 
sors!" 

Fra Domenico said this with a twinkle in his 
eye, for he was always ready to perceive the hu- 
morous side of a question, and the boys loved him 
greatly, not only for his loyal and generous spirit 
and for his intense devotion to Fra Girolamo, but 
also because he understood them so thoroughly 
and was ever ready to furnish them with a little 
harmless fun and innocent diversion, which, boy- 
like, they were ready for. 

Off again started the white-robed seekers for 
treasure, out into the more unfrequented streets 
and through those portions of the city which they 
thought might possibly have been overlooked in 
the earlier search. Dino and Giovanni led a 
party of ten younger boys, and they all sang as 
loudly as they could one of those quaint Italian 
songs which Fra Girolamo had composed and 
set to music for them: 



The Bonfire of Vanities 8i 

"Non fu mai piu bel solazzo, 
Piu giocondo me maggiore, 
Che per zelo e per amore 
Di Gesu divenir pazzo. 
Ognun grida com' io grido, 
Semper pazzo, pazzo, pazzo." 

Between the intervals of singing they shouted 
lustily, " Viva il Piagnoni ! " " Viva Fra Giro- 
lamo!" "Viva Firenze!" 

At length they paused before an old and gloomy- 
looking mansion and surrounded its gateway in 
a white circle, looking very picturesque with their 
roguish boy-faces and clustering curls crowned by 
the green olive-wreaths. Bernardino stepped for- 
ward and began a polite little speech to the 
wrinkled old woman who appeared in the door- 
way. 

" Good mother," he said, "we are sent here by 
the friar Girolamo who is doing so much to purify 
and improve our beautiful city. We are boys 
who belong to the Piagnone party, and we are 
proud that we can help on its good work a little. 
So we ask your assistance, mother, in what we are 
trying to accomplish for the great Carnival festivi- 
ties to-night. Perhaps you may not have heard, 
since you live in this distant and lonely neighbor- 
hood, and probably do not often venture far from 
home, what sort of celebration we are to have in 



82 The Angels of Savonarola 

the Piazza della Signoria this evening in place 
of the old Carnival customs? " 

The woman looked at him stupidly and did not 
reply for a moment. She was evidently very old, 
and apparently took little notice of present-day 
events. 

" I do not know what you are talking about, 
young master ! " she said at length, " for, as you 
say, I am able to go out little now, having the 
rheumatism so badly in my feet. 

" It is true I have heard the neighbors speaking 
sometimes about the Dominican friar who preaches 
often in the Cathedral, and who seems to be turn- 
ing the world upside down with his strange no- 
tions. However, if he has done anything to 
change the old, bad doings of the Carnival sea- 
son, I am very glad indeed, for I remember them 
well when I was young and how many wild and 
cruel pranks the boys used to play. Eh ! but the 
beautiful dresses we wore then, my sisters and I, 
when we went out in the evening and danced 
through the streets, singing and shouting!" 

"That is just what we want, good mother!" 
cried Bernardino eagerly, seeing his opportunity 
arise here. " Haven't you by chance some of 
those very dresses put away upstairs in your gar- 
ret, safely preserved all these years in lavender- 
flowers or gum-camphor?" 

" Indeed I have, my lad ! " answered the old 



The Bonfire of Vanities 83 

woman quickly, her memory going back with pleas- 
ure to those gay nights when she was a rosy- 
cheeked lass, " indeed I have, a whole cedar-wood 
chest of them. Many's the time I have got them 
out and looked them over, for my sisters are all 
gone now, poor dears, and I am left alone of my 
whole family in this big house." 

Bernardino saw plainly that this was a case 
calling for diplomacy, so, motioning his compan- 
ions to stand back a little, he approached nearer 
to the old woman and said very gently: 

11 Mother, those garments in which you and 
your sisters used to dress are of no use to any one 
now, and still worse, they are only sinful reminders 
of the frivolity and evil of worldly pleasure. 
Would you not be willing, after they have lain 
idly by for so many years, to surrender them for 
your own spiritual good and for the sake of the 
example to others which their sacrifice will be? 
We boys are sent out by Fra Domenico, who is 
Fra Girolamo's helper and friend, to gather a 
few more materials, in order that our great Pyra- 
mid of Vanities may be completely filled up for 
the bonfire this evening. 

11 All over Florence those who love the reforms 
which our great Savonarola is instituting have sur- 
rendered their foolish possessions — their rich 
dresses and pictures and gaudy ornaments. To- 
night these are all to be destroyed, and you can 



84 The Angels of Savonarola 

well imagine how much better the whole city will 
be after such a thorough purification. Would you 
not be glad, good mother, to contribute that chest 
with its memories of your youthful follies in order 
to help us fill up a few empty spaces which still 
exist in our pyramid? 

"Then, if you are able to walk so far this even- 
ing, it will surely be a great satisfaction for you 
to come to the Piazza and enjoy the glorious spec- 
tacle of the huge bonfire, and old Master Carnival 
himself tumbling down into the middle of it. You 
will then realize that your own treasures have 
gone up in the same great cloud of smoke with 
many richer and more valuable things. Besides 
you, who will, I hope, soon be in a better world 
than this, would not in any case much longer seek 
to cling to these perishing things of earth ! " 

The boy uttered this long speech quite as though 
he were delivering a sermon, and if there was a 
roguish twinkle in his eye underneath his demure 
expression, the old woman's dim vision certainly 
did not catch it. 

The other boys waited in gleeful anticipation, 
for a whole chestful of vanities would, they felt, 
be a valuable discovery, and perhaps would be 
quite sufficient to meet all Fra Domenico's wishes. 

As she took in the full meaning of Bernardino's 
speech the old dame's wrinkled visage clouded for 
a moment. She manifestly did not quite relish 



The Bonfire of Vanities 85 

the giving up of her possessions treasured during 
so many lonely years. But almost immediately 
better thoughts prevailed, and she said quite cheer- 
fully, "Well, my children, I suppose I too ought 
to be willing to join the good work in which all 
the best people of Florence are engaging. It is 
rather hard to think of having all those pretty 
dresses burned up, but perhaps God will approve 
of me for it, and maybe the monks will pray to 
him for me that all the sins of my life may be 
forgiven ! 

11 Now, boys, you may come with me upstairs, 
but not the entire party. I cannot have my house 
tracked with mire from the streets by the feet of 
twelve boys. Four of you will be quite enough 
to carry down the chest, and the rest must stay 
here quietly and wait." 

Dino selected two of the most stalwart lads of 
his body-guard, and with these and Giovanni he 
followed the old woman into the house and up 
several flights of narrow winding stairs, until they 
reached a low room under the sloping rafters. 
There, indeed, was the carved chest, and taking a 
key from the bunch which hung at her girdle, the 
old woman opened it and began to look quickly 
over the treasures within. 

Much to Bernardino's delight the contents of 
the box were, though not specially valuable in 
themselves, just the sort of things most desirable 



86 The Angels of Savonarola 

for the construction of the pyramid. There were 
ball-dresses of bright pink, blue and red, manu- 
factured out of gauzy fabrics and covered over 
with glittering crystal spangles that shone like dia- 
monds. Then there were great painted fans and 
huge hats with long curling feathers which re- 
called the fashion fifty years earlier. There were 
also many small articles which would be of use to 
fit into corners and niches, such as powder-puffs, 
lace veils, dainty kid slippers, silk stockings, etc. 

The old woman was evidently afraid of looking 
too long at all these cherished articles for fear 
lest she should change her mind and be unwilling 
to sacrifice them. Giovanni and Dino also per- 
ceived the danger of this, so they were very 
glad when she hurried them all quickly back into 
the chest again, shut down the cover and bade 
the boys take it away as soon as they could. 

All the way on their slow and careful passage 
with their heavy burden down to the street-door, 
the old creature followed them, talking earnestly. 

" You will be sure to tell Father Domenico all I 
have given up to help on the Piagnone work, will 
you not, my children, and you will beg him to say 
some special prayers for me during the coming 
Lent, because I think I really deserve them after 
letting you have all that beautiful chestful! In- 
deed I know by to-night I shall be sorry that I 
let them go, and every time I mount the stairs I 



The Bonfire of Vanities 87 

shall be missing them and wishing I could look 
them over again! Beautiful things they were, 
truly, and beautiful times we all had in those 
gay days long ago ! " 

At this she sighed heavily, but the next moment 
plucked up heart again and continued brightly, 
"Well, well, as you say, my boys, they were all 
foolish vanities, and we who cannot stay long in 
this world anyway are probably far better off with- 
out them. How I should like to see the big bon- 
fire to-night in the square, and all the fine things 
burning up together! Perhaps I shall manage to 
hobble that far, if one of the neighbors will kindly 
give me an arm to lean upon. I will surely try 
to get there if it is possible." 

By this time the boys had safely arrived with 
their burden in the street, and Bernardino, letting 
one of the others take his place in carrying the 
chest, took the old lady's hand with a graceful 
bow and thanked her warmly for her kindness 
in the name of the Piagnone party. Then the 
merry procession, forming again, hurried back to 
the Piazza and delivered up their treasures to the 
hand of Fra Domenico. 

The bonfire of vanities that evening was de- 
clared by all Florence to be a great success. 
Swiftly the tongues of flame leaped up around 
the huge pyramid, eagerly devouring it with all 
its contents, and at just the right moment came 



88 The Angels of Savonarola 

the crashing explosion of gunpowder which caused 
old Master Carnival to come rattling down from 
his high perch and disappear into the very heart 
of that abyss of flame. 

It seemed to Bernardino, when all was over 
and the great glare of the fire was dying down 
into dull heaps of grey ashes, that he had never 
in his whole life enjoyed a day so much as that 
one. Scarcely a single thing had happened in it 
to mar his pleasure. He had danced and sung 
and shouted with the others to his heart's content; 
he had collected pennies from the passers-by for 
the good cause, and then gone and emptied them 
by the handful into Fra Domenico's lap. 

Only one circumstance had cast a momentary 
cloud over his soul's sky that day, and remem- 
brance of it made him pause, as he was about 
to accompany his parents homeward after the 
Carnival celebration was all over, and decide to 
wend his steps in another direction. 

" Mother," he said, slipping his arm about her 
waist and leaning down a little to whisper in her 
ear, for he was now several inches taller than 
she, " I am not coming right home with you. I 
must go around by the convent of San Marco and 
see the Frate for a moment. It troubles me to 
recollect that each time I have met him to-day 
his face has worn so strange and sad an expres- 
sion. I shall not be able to sleep well, mother, 



The Bonfire of Vanities 89 

unless I have asked what it is that has grieved 
him." 

" Very well, dear boy," answered Maria, quite 
content to have Bernardino go on such an errand. 
11 1 trust you may be able to cheer him a little, 
but I think it is quite easy to realize that our 
Frate has enough to make him anxious in these 
last days. Only do not stay so late as to weary 
or tax him, Dino mio, for it is almost midnight 



now." 



Bernardino hurried away through the dimly- 
lighted streets, which seemed even darker by con- 
trast with the brilliancy made by the bonfire in 
the square. Reaching the convent he passed 
through the long cloisters, and entering the build- 
ing soon found his way to Fra Savonarola's cell, 
where he knew that he would be always welcome. 
Many a time during the last seven years had he 
come thither with his boyish grievances and dis- 
appointments as well as with his spiritual difficul- 
ties and doubts, and always had the tender-hearted 
monk seemed at leisure to help his young friend. 

Dino was sure that he would find the Frate 
here now, for he had noticed that quite early in 
the evening the monk had retired from his place 
among the Dominicans in the Piazza, leaving the 
whole charge of affairs in the hands of Fra Do- 
menico. As the boy softly approached the friar's 
cell he noticed that the door stood half-open and 



90 The Angels of Savonarola 

perceived the dark-robed figure seated in his ac- 
customed place in front of the plain wooden desk 
above which hung the crucifix. 

Visitors to Florence to-day may enter that very 
cell, unchanged in every respect, and look upon 
the hard, uncomfortable chair and the bare little 
room where the great leader spent so many hours 
of his life. 

Bernardino stood outside for some time quite 
motionless, feeling that he dared not enter and 
speak to his friend. For the Frate was neither 
reading nor writing. His head was bowed upon 
his desk, and occasionally a stifled sob broke from 
his lips. 

The boy's first thought was that some new and 
great catastrophe had occurred; that the Pope had 
really issued the dreaded excommunication which 
all feared would be his next move, or that some 
powerful member of the Piagnoni had deserted 
his place in the ranks and gone over to Dolfo 
Spini like a traitor. 

Dino turned hot and cold by turns in his ex- 
citement, and at last, being able no longer to con- 
trol himself, burst into the room, crying, with 
tears in his eyes, " Tell me, dear Father, who has 
hurt you, who has wounded you? I cannot bear 
it to see you so grieved and troubled !" 

The boy's cry seemed at first unheeded, but at 
length Savonarola, like one who wakes out of 




SAVONAROLA'S CELL IN THE CONVENT OP SAN 

MARCO. 



The Bonfire of Vanities 91 

a trance, lifted his head and looked at Bernardino. 
His face was sad and drawn with mental suffer- 
ing, and his eyes had lost all their accustomed 
fire. 

" My son," he said, speaking almost in a whis- 
per, like a man who is exhausted by some terrible 
struggle, "you ought not to have come to me to- 
night. This has been such a bright, joyful day 
for you, and for me one of such pain and anguish ! 
Our lives must separate here, my child; they will 
henceforth be too diverse for us to continue as 
comrades and friends. 

" Would to God it might have been otherwise, 
Dino mio, for I am indeed loath to lose your 
sweet companionship. It has been a solace and 
comfort to me always. But you were born for 
gladness and beauty, and I for pain and sacrifice. 
God forbid that the shadow of my fate should 
cast itself across your fair young existence. To 
know that such was to be the case would be the 
bitterest drop in the cup held to my lips. 

11 Go from me then, my child, for to-night at 
least. To-morrow I shall be calmer and see you 
again, but not for long. It is best that hence- 
forth you should not be much or often with me, 
but should lead your own bright life with the 
friends of your own age." 

Bernardino listened to these words in amaze- 
ment. It seemed to him that they could not really 



92 The Angels of Savonarola 

be spoken by the Frate whom he had known and 
loved so long. The idea that Savonarola really 
wished him to go away, or desired their cherished 
friendship to cease, did not, however, force it- 
self with any reality upon his consciousness. He 
felt that the situation was incomprehensible, but 
was sure that some entirely new sort of danger or 
sorrow had entered the monk's soul, and that 
while he could not banish it, he might at least 
soothe and comfort his beloved friend. So he 
knelt for a long time without speaking beside 
the little wooden desk, caressing Savonarola's 
hand and looking up tenderly into his white, sad 
face. 

At length the mere fact of the boy's presence 
and fervent devotion did seem to carry a sense of 
comfort and peace to the Frate's troubled heart. 
The tense line9 faded out of his countenance and 
its healthy color began to come back gradually. 

" God bless you, my boy!" he said, in a tone 
quite calm and natural. " You have indeed helped 
me to-night, and I am thankful that you came as 
you did. The sight of your sweet face has partly 
banished from my soul the imprint of an awful 
vision which came to me to-night in the Piazza, 
and which seemed drawn there in letters of fire. 
God grant you may never know what such a vision 
is, my Bernardino, and may our merciful Father 
also grant in his sovereign pity that this foreshad- 



The Bonfire of Vanities 93 

owing shall not prove to be the true premonition 
of his ordained destiny for me ! 

"Go home now and pray for me, as I know 
you will do, that he will give me strength to en- 
dure all that is to come, whether my pathway lead 
through the flames or elsewhere. But do not be 
anxious about me for to-night, my son. The hor- 
ror has departed, and, by God's grace, you have 
brought me peace. I shall sleep well, and I trust 
that you also may have quiet slumbers." 

These last words were spoken in a manner at 
once calm and authoritative, and seeing that the 
friar's deep blue eyes were no longer full of that 
strange and awful terror, and that his lips were 
smiling in their old accustomed way, Bernardino 
obeyed his friend, and, kissing his hand reverently, 
went silently home through the darkness. 

Many months afterward he realized that the 
revelation which came to Savonarola that evening 
as he watched the great burning in the Piazza 
was indeed the true forewarning of another far 
different blaze which was to be kindled there, to 
consume not the harmful and delusive vanities of 
this world, but some of the most precious and 
most noble possessions which Florence, or the 
earth itself, ever contained. 

Fortunately this realization did not at that time 
enter in the faintest degree the boy's mind. Had 
it done so, it would have then and there ended his 



94 The Angels of Savonarola 

boy-life and caused the years of sober and thought- 
ful manhood to begin prematurely for him. As 
it was, he was only conscious of the fact that his 
beloved friend had from some cause been in great 
and peculiar trouble, and that his own affection- 
ate sympathy had been able to bring him comfort. 
For this he was truly glad and thankful, so after 
he had sent up a very fervent supplication that 
God would mercifully prevent the Frate's sad 
vision from ever coming true, Dino, utterly worn 
out with his long day's pleasure and excitement, 
fell almost immediately into the dreamless slum- 
ber of healthy and weary boyhood. 



V 

GATHERING CLOUDS 

More and more darkly the storm continued to 
gather upon Savonarola's horizon during the year 
which followed that memorable Carnival season 
of 1496. Complications arose between that polit- 
ical party, the Piagnone, which had vigorously 
espoused his cause, and the other parties which 
were striving for mastery in Florence. Many of 
Fra Girolamo's formerly devoted friends seemed 
to grow cold and lose their great faith in him, 
under the continued opposition which the Pope 
maintained to him and to his teachings. 

Alexander had succeeded in preventing his 
preaching for a few months, but it was only for 
a little while that the great preacher could hold 
back his message at the command of the wicked 
Borgia. He said, in explaining his return to the 
pulpit; ""I am not disobeying the ideal Pope or 
the true Vicar of Christ in acting thus, for Christ's 
true representative upon earth would necessarily 
be actuated by the spirit of Jesus, the spirit of 
love. This wicked order then cannot really be 
authoritative and I shall not longer submit to it, 
for God has ordained me to preach, and for that 
purpose has sent me into the world." 

95 



96 The Angels of Savonarola 

So Fra Girolamo did preach in his own church 
of San Marco, and multitudes still attended the 
services. Yet the audiences were not as of old, 
always eager and reverent. Oftentimes critical 
and derogatory remarks might be heard through- 
out the crowd, and not infrequently the friar, 
when he appeared in the streets of Florence, was 
saluted by hisses and curses, where formerly he had 
received only laudation and tender benedictions. 

This state of things increased to such a degree 
that some of the more influential Piagnone leaders 
became alarmed, and insisted that Savonarola 
should not in future venture into the public thor- 
oughfares without an armed guard of six men, 
which they furnished from their own ranks. 

The necessity for such protection hurt the 
monk's soul cruelly, and he at first utterly refused 
to submit to it. But when at length a sharp stone, 
hurled by one of Dolfo Spini's followers, wounded 
his forehead badly, and he saw that the danger 
to his life was really considerable, he consented. 
For though Fra Girolamo was at this time greatly 
depressed by the aspect which affairs in Florence 
were assuming, he still had much of that buoyant 
enthusiasm for the city's ultimate good which had 
formerly been able to carry all before it and to 
transform Florence for a time into that ideal 
place the dream of which existed in his great soul. 
He still felt that he had much to live for, and 



Gathering Clouds 97 

that the desires of his heart might yet be realized, 
and he was not willing that his life should be cut 
short by some reckless enemy's chance shot. 

During this year the friendship between Ber- 
nardino Salviati and the Frate continued as warmly 
as ever. Neither of them ever referred to the 
dreadful vision which the monk had beheld on 
the night of the Bonfire of Vanities, but it is very 
certain that neither of them forgot it. The re- 
membrance of it was burned into Fra Girolamo's 
soul as with a searing-iron, and although he tried 
not to dwell upon it, the impression frequently 
revived with force in his darkest and most despair- 
ing hours. 

Dino realized that the dream must have been a 
terrible one, but he hoped and prayed that it 
might not, like so many of the Frate's other fore- 
warnings of future events, ever be fulfilled. His 
chief aim in life now seemed to be to carry all 
the cheer and comfort he could to that noble heart 
which was so weighed down by the ingratitude and 
cruelty of men. 

Slowly those fourteen months wore away, and 
still the shadows deepened over Florence and over 
her greatest son, until in May, 1497, ^ e P°P e 
sent to Savonarola what was called the first or par- 
tial excommunication. This blow did not affect 
the friar greatly, for he had so long been expect- 
ing it that it was not a shock, yet it meant the 



98 The Angels of Savonarola 

practical cessation of his influence over Florence. 
He now stopped preaching and withdrew into the 
cloister of San Marco, where he spent most of 
his time writing in his cell. 

Many more of his professed friends now de- 
serted from the ranks of the Piagnoni, and the 
Mediceans were continually plotting for his final 
overthrow and their return to power. But the 
Frate was too large a man to be easily dislodged 
from his position in the people's affection, and his 
marvellous magnetism held them for a good while 
after they had lost their first supreme faith and 
enthusiasm. 

The summer of 1497 was one of the saddest 
which Florence ever knew. Not only was the 
friar forbidden to preach or to administer the 
Sacrament, but all were aware that the second and 
more emphatic excommunication might at any 
moment be sent to him, by which he would be pro- 
hibited from speaking with or approaching any of 
his brother monks, and would be placed utterly 
outside all hope of the Church's final pardon or 
absolution. 

Besides the Florentines knew that if they con- 
tinued much longer to harbor and listen to this 
dreadful sinner, this renegade monk, as the Pope 
termed him, the Borgia would hurl down upon 
their city the terrible interdict which would prac- 
tically cut them off from all the rest of Catholic 



Gathering Clouds 99 

Europe and would utterly ruin their commerce 
and trade. 

Under such circumstances we can only wonder 
that numbers of the people still remained devoted 
to the Dominican and still believed that God was 
with him as he was not with Alexander VI. But 
this single man was able for a time to hold in 
check by the sheer power of his pure nobility and 
righteousness the worst forces of human nature, 
and to make the envy and self-interest of a whole 
people shrink down like whipped curs before his 
dominant personality. 

But another calamity fell upon unhappy Flor- 
ence during those sultry summer days, for a 
strange and dreadful pestilence visited the city. 
Many scores of people died and hundreds were 
ill, so that the wealthy residents took fright and 
mostly left the town, or at least sent their fam- 
ilies away. 

Guido Salviati despatched Maria and Bernar- 
dino to a pretty little villa which he owned in the 
country, but he himself remained at the Frate's 
side, and together they visited and cared for the 
sick and dying, doing all in their power to make 
conditions more healthful and comfortable. 

Dino had begged hard to remain in the city, 
but his father would not consent, so he and his 
mother spent two months in great anxiety, fearing 
that each new day would bring them tidings that 



ioo The Angels of Savonarola 

either one of the men whom they loved so dearly 
had succumbed to the dreaded disease. 

Neither the cool breezes nor the beautiful scen- 
ery of their mountain retreat seemed at all desira- 
ble to Maria or Dino, and both were heartily 
thankful when September came once more and 
they were permitted to return .to Florence. 

They found both Guido and the Frate well, 
though thin and worn. Fra Girolamo was in sur- 
prisingly good spirits, and greeted Bernardino with 
so much of his old cheerfulness that the boy was 
greatly surprised, and marvelled how the summer 
anxiety and toil could have produced such a re- 
sult. 

Savonarola explained the matter to his young 
friend as they paced together again the familiar 
cloisters of San Marco. 

" It has not been an unhappy summer, my son," 
he said, laying his slender hand upon the boy's 
stalwart shoulder. " God has been very good to 
me in permitting me again to find work in Flor- 
ence which has drawn me near to the hearts of 
my people. It has been a great privilege to go 
about among the sick and dying and help them 
both physically and spiritually, and to know that 
they really desired to have me near to minister to 
them. 

11 Several times I nursed members of the Cam- 
pagnacci whose friends had deserted them in ter- 



Gathering Clouds ioi 

ror for their own safety, leaving them to die alone 
in filthy hovels without even a cooling draught of 
water for their fever-parched lips. One young 
fellow your father and I carried to the infirmary 
of San Marco, and, as I sat beside him the last 
night before he died, he looked up into my face 
and said, ' Father, I have persecuted you and 
reviled you ! Many times I have heaped curses 
upon your head as you passed in the street. But 
worst of all, Father, I must make confession to 
you that it was I who threw that sharp stone which 
cut your brow and which was directed with far 
deadlier intent. I would have been glad that day 
if I had killed you, Fra Girolamo, and now I 
have received at your hands the last acts of ten- 
derness and generosity which one human being can 
render to another. I beseech you to grant me 
your forgiveness, and to pray God that he may 
also in mercy pardon my sins and permit me en- 
trance into his presence for Christ's sake.' 

"With this prayer upon his lips," continued the 
Dominican, " the poor young fellow passed away, 
but I am very sure that our merciful Lord did 
pardon him, and receive him into the mansions 
prepared for his children. This case and many 
similar ones have been a great comfort to me, and 
I think that the influence of them has made it- 
self felt perceptibly throughout the city. Every- 
where as I pass along the streets now I hear bless- 



102 The Angels of Savonarola 

ings and kindly words, where a few months ago 
only maledictions were showered upon me." 

" Then I do not wonder that you look so much 
happier, dear Father," cried Bernardino cheerily. 
" Perhaps this pestilence has been a blessing in 
disguise to draw the hearts of the people back 
to you once more and to show them how truly 
you love them, so that you are willing to sacrifice 
life itself for them. 

" Surely the Pope himself will be touched when 
he hears of all you have done and suffered this 
summer, and of how you have obediently refrained 
from preaching according to his orders. In that 
event he may withdraw the excommunication — do 
you not think it is possible?" 

But the Frate shook his head gravely as he an- 
swered, " I place as little reliance on Alexander, 
my son, as I would place upon the Prince of Dark- 
ness! He will work out his own evil ends in his 
own despicable ways. 

" Meanwhile my greatest trial is to be kept 
from preaching to my people ; that I cannot much 
longer endure ! Let the Borgia do what he will, 
I must soon again ascend the pulpit of San Marco 
and break this silence which I have been preserv- 
ing at his order for so many months." 

Fra Girolamo spoke these last words with a 
flashing light in his blue eyes, and Bernardino felt 
that he was once again the hopeful and confident 



Gathering Clouds 103 

leader, the inspired prophet of a people's trust. 
The boy's youthful elasticity of spirit made him 
sure that all would yet be well, and that the monk 
would finally triumph over the power of Rome. 
But that power was a crushing force, whose full 
weight had as yet by no means made itself felt. 
This Bernardino could not realize. 

The following month, October, saw Alexander 
despatching his last thunderbolt against the recre- 
ant friar — the final excommunication. At the 
same time he again threatened the Florentines 
with interdict if they did not surrender to him this 
disturber of the Church's peace. 

Savonarola's proud spirit rose against this cruelty 
and oppression as a great rock rises out of the 
waves which break upon it. For more than six 
months subsequent to the first excommunication in 
May he had remained entirely silent, not submis- 
sive or acknowledging himself in the wrong, but 
willing to obey in so far as he conscientiously could 
the nominal head of the Church. Now his con- 
sciousness of being morally pure and upright and 
his desire for self-justification before his perse- 
cutors asserted themselves too strongly to be any 
longer repressed. On Christmas Day, 1497, Fra 
Girolamo entered once again his pulpit in San 
Marco, and for several months continued his ser- 
mons as of old to crowded audiences. 

However, a change had come over his preach- 



104 The Angels of Savonarola 

ing. Inevitably the strain under which he had 
labored for two years had begun to tell even upon 
his dauntless spirit. No longer was the theme of 
his preaching the sins of the people and the woes 
which should descend upon them and upon the 
Church unless a reformation was brought about. 
Now his mind naturally centered upon his own 
peculiar situation in the eyes of the Church and 
the world, and he could not help trying to justify 
it. 

Conscious of his own absolute integrity and 
purity of motive, it would have indeed been 
strange had he been willing to submit without re- 
monstrance to degradation and ignominy at the 
hands of so wicked and debased a man as Rod- 
erigo Borgia. 

Had Savonarola been a man of the tempera- 
ment and turn of mind which Luther had, or even 
had he lived fifty years later and in the northern 
part of Europe, there seems scarcely any doubt 
that he would have seceded from the corrupt 
Church of Rome altogether, instead of taking the 
course which he did. As it was, he chose the 
only other path which a lofty and honorable soul 
could adopt. 

He said, u I cannot obey Roderigo Borgia, the 
man now calling himself Pope, because he is not 
the real head of the Church at all. He has bought 
the Chair of St. Peter's by bribery and paying 



Gathering Clouds 105 

down immense sums of money, and he is accord- 
ingly a usurper there. I assume this position, and 
I denounce his excommunication as absolutely null 
and void. It carries no weight, for it is not an 
expression of the Church's authority, because Alex- 
ander VI. has no real authority to represent the 
Church." 

This standpoint, while no doubt the true one, 
was very difficult ground to maintain, with the 
whole force of the Roman Church against him. 
It was an open question how long Savonarola 
could possibly hold out and prove himself stronger 
than the Pope. 

A new tendency now began to manifest itself 
in the popular mind, even among his own friends 
— a demand that Savonarola should offer some 
proof, some credentials for his authority. Every- 
where in Florence this point was discussed with 
intense interest and formed the chief topic for 
conversation wherever any number of citizens were 
assembled. 

" If the Frate is a real prophet and a true ser- 
vant of God," said many of his enemies and even 
some among his friends, "why does he not offer 
as a proof that he is in the right and the Pope 
altogether in the wrong some sign or testimony 
which will be indisputable and will clearly estab- 
lish his innocence and honor? Surely God is as 
able in this day to defend his true children as he 



io6 The Angels of Savonarola 

was in the olden time and, if necessary, to work 
miracles for them." 

"Tell us, Fra Girolamo," they cried, even as 
the Jews cried to Jesus Christ, " what sign show- 
est thou? What dost thou work?" 

This spirit manifest among the people, which 
made itself felt strongly on every side and in all 
ranks and classes of society, was perhaps the bit- 
terest drop which Savonarola had yet tasted in the 
cup held to his lips. 

While he believed most firmly in the miracles 
of the Bible, and even in the possibility that God 
might yet repeat such signs and wonders if it 
seemed necessary to his own wise purposes, yet he 
was very far from thinking it right to demand of 
the Almighty a sign or testimony to justify the 
credentials of a mere human being like himself. 

He knew too, even as his divine Master had 
known when the people demanded of Him a sign 
from heaven, that this request was not made in the 
right spirit, but was prompted by the attitude of 
unbelief which desired in most cases not his justi- 
fication, but his overthrow, that it was, indeed, a 
suggestion instigated by the originator of all evil 
himself. 

Savonarola's mind was therefore at this time in 
a state of great perturbation and turmoil. 

It was not that his faith in God and in his ulti- 
mate wisdom and justice ever faltered for one mo- 



Gathering Clouds 107 

ment, but that he had largely lost that glad con- 
fidence in his own mission and destiny which had 
been so important and prominent a feature of his 
early work and life in Florence. 

God was true and God was just, but had he, 
Savonarola, served him always with perfect truth 
and with perfect humility? If he had, would his 
life-work have proved such a sad failure as it 
now seemed, and would the people so largely fail 
to recognize as they were now doing how earnestly 
he had planned and worked for their welfare? 

We can well believe that during these sad 
months the monk's greatest help and consolation 
were always found in study and meditation upon 
the last days of the life of his blessed Lord, and 
that in pondering on the ingratitude and ignominy 
heaped upon Christ's self-denying labors he found 
courage to bear a treatment so similiar and so 
disheartening. 

Thus passed the first weeks of the year 1498, 
succeeding his Christmas sermon. Every day the 
people's clamor for " a sign, a miracle to show if 
the Frate be really what he claims or only an im- 
postor," grew louder, and each time that Fra 
Girolamo preached to the great audiences which 
still assembled at San Marco he felt more strongly 
how difficult it was to know what he ought to do, 
and how terribly dangerous his position was be- 
coming. 



108 The Angels of Savonarola 

It is true that he still had a few strong men 
among the Piagnoni — noble, sensible men like 
Francesco Valori and Guido Salviati — who felt 
just as he did, that he had no right to ask or to 
expect a miracle worked in his favor, and that the 
suggestion truly emanated from the ranks of his 
enemies who desired to enclose him in a trap. But 
few minds of that generation were strong enough 
or wise enough to look at the situation in such a 
light. Many of his warmest friends, including 
even a number of his brother monks, were con- 
tinually urging him to submit to some test, to offer 
some miraculous trial of his credentials which 
should surely establish them in the eyes of the 
Church and of the world. 

11 Do not fear," cried many of the Dominicans, 
in their blind enthusiasm and desire that their Su- 
perior should take this step, " that God whom you 
have so nobly and faithfully served will desert you 
now. Only try him, and he will surely come to 
your rescue, and work some great miracle for 
you ! " 

And Savonarola replied many times in the true 
spirit of his Master, " Of what avail will it really 
be if I do make the experiment? And even if a 
miracle should be worked in my favor, do you 
think that they would any more readily believe in 
me or acknowledge my claims to justice? I tell 
you, my friends, that though in God's good time 



Gathering Clouds 109 

his cause will successfully triumph, the issue to me 
can be only one thing — death ! " 

But, as a wise and prudent leader, after long 
and patiently holding to the cause which he knows 
to be best, is sometimes finally swayed from it by 
the continued urging of weaker men, so Savonarola 
was at last persuaded to act in a way quite contrary 
to his better judgment. 

Towards the end of February, 1498, a wooden 
balcony was erected for him above the great door 
of San Marco, and standing there before the vast 
crowds of people who filled the square below, Fra 
Girolamo asked for a miracle to prove him pure 
and clean in the sight of God. Taking in his 
hand that object most sacred in the eyes of all 
Roman Catholics, the crystal vessel containing 
the consecrated wafer, he raised it aloft in his 
hands and prayed aloud: 

11 my God and Father, whom I have earnestly 
and faithfully ever tried to serve, and whose cause 
I have held dear above any earthly honor or pos- 
session, if thou now seest in my heart any base or 
ignoble motives, if thou judgest that I have not 
been thy true servant and humble follower, I ask 
that while I stand here in the sight of these people, 
thou wilt send down fire from heaven to consume 
me utterly ! " 

Of course no fire appeared, and the friar went 
slowly back into the church, leaving the crowd, 



no The Angels of Savonarola 

for the time being at least, somewhat silent and 
subdued. 

The strain of that moment was a terrible one 
both for Savonarola and for his friends, but when 
it was over the Frate felt that he had made a great 
mistake in ever consenting to this trial. It was just 
as he had said it would be; the people were not 
really convinced by what he had done. The next 
day they laughed and scoffed, and said that this 
was no real miracle — it was only a negative test 
anyway! They wanted something more evident 
and positive, something which smacked of danger 
and excitement. 

Hence it was most pleasing to the fickle people 
of Florence, who but two years before had been so 
entirely under Savonarola's guidance and for 
whom he had done so much, when a few weeks 
later one of the monks of the Franciscan order 
challenged the Dominican to a " Sperimento," or 
" Trial by Fire." 

This was the revival of a very old custom which 
required that two champions should walk through 
fire, and the one who came out unharmed should 
be regarded as having proved himself innocent. 

Fra Domenico, Girolamo's ever devoted friend 
and helper, a monk of loving and enthusiastic 
spirit, but not perhaps possessed of great wisdom 
or judgment, took up the challenge at once. 

The Franciscans had probably hoped that Sa- 



Gathering Clouds hi 

vonarola himself would accept it, and they no 
doubt desired in this way to bring about either his 
death, if he actually walked through the fire, or 
else his complete disfavor with the people if he 
declined to attempt it. 

Fra Girolamo, however, saw through their mo- 
tives clearly from the first, and was bitterly op- 
posed to the whole scheme. It was some time be- 
fore he would give his assent to Domenico's accept- 
ance of the challenge, and even then, he did it re- 
luctantly and against his better judgment. 

Nearly the whole mass of the Florentines, how- 
ever, both those who were friendly and those who 
were hostile, appeared greatly pleased at the idea 
of the Ordeal by Fire, and desired that it should 
without fail take place. 

The friends of the Dominican wanted it, be- 
cause most of them believed that God would per- 
form a miracle for the sake of this noble and 
worthy child of his, and that if Fra Domenico 
came out of the flames unhurt the righteousness of 
Savonarola's cause would be surely established. In 
that case they felt that not only would all Flor- 
ence be obliged to accept one so certified and at- 
tested by a sign as its guide and head, but even the 
Pope himself would be forced to withdraw the 
excommunication and to admit that the hated 
monk was really a teacher sent from God. 

On the other hand, Savonarola's enemies, the 



ii2 The Angels of Savonarola 

Campagnacci, who had always abhorred him, and 
the Franciscans, who were jealous because he had 
brought another order of friars into so much 
greater prominence and influence than their own, 
desired that the " Trial by Fire " should be carried 
out because they made sure that one of two 
things would then happen. Either Domenico 
would march into the flames and be consumed — 
for they had not the slightest idea that any mir- 
acle could occur — or from some cause or other at 
the last moment the whole performance might be 
stopped, and then the people would lay all the 
blame for their disappointment upon Fra Giro- 
lamo and visit their indignation upon his head. 

As soon as the affair was finally arranged, and 
it was decided that the Sperimento should take 
place on the Friday before Palm Sunday, 1498, 
the excitement began to wax high among all Sa- 
vonarola's devoted friends. 

Not only did every Dominican of San Marco 
to a man offer himself as a champion to walk 
through the flames on behalf of this great leader, 
but many laymen among the Piagnoni took the 
same course. Savonarola could not but be com- 
forted and strengthened by such devotion and loy- 
alty on the part of his friends. 

When the Ordeal was first proposed Bernar- 
dino was one of the most zealous advocates, and 
marvelled much that his father and mother did 



Gathering Clouds 113 

not agree with him, but dampened his enthusiasm 
with sorrowful looks and gloomy forebodings. 
As the weeks passed, however, and the great day 
drew nearer, he found that his zeal was oozing 
away and the whole attitude of his mind changing. 
A deep depression seemed to settle down upon 
him, which he was quite unable to shake off. 
Something, he could never tell what, had vividly 
recalled to his mind the recollection of the night 
after the Bonfire of Vanities and of Fra Girola- 
mo's terrible vision. Swiftly the certainty flashed 
across his boyish intelligence, "That vision was a 
forewarning of what is now about to take place ! 
This Trial by Fire means nothing less than the 
Frate's own death, which was prophetically fore- 
shadowed to him on that night, just as so many 
other events have been in the past." 

When this thought had once suggested itself 
to Dino the conviction of its truth grew in inten- 
sity moment by moment until it became almost un- 
endurable. 

What made the matter worse was that he could 
not bring himself to speak about the subject to any 
one, not even to his mother. Not a word con- 
cerning that painful interview with the Frate two 
years ago had ever passed his lips, for he had felt 
it was a confidence too sacred to mention to an- 
other. Those were indeed unhappy days for the 
boy, and they passed slowly and sadly enough. 



ii4 The Angels of Savonarola 

It was Thursday evening at last, and the Speri- 
mento was appointed for the next day, Friday, 
when Dino decided that he could no longer silently 
bear his agony, and he made his way once more 
to his old place for consolation and comfort — 
the Frate's cell. Of late the lad had not dared 
to go there, for he was unwilling to add to the 
monk's weight of care and anxiety by relating his 
own perhaps foolish forebodings. 

It was very evident that Fra Girolamo had 
missed his young friend by the eager way in which 
he met him, clasping both the outstretched hands 
in his and crying: 

"Welcome, my Dino! You have indeed been 
a stranger here during these last few weeks." 

The boy looked up quickly into the strong, 
tender face which he loved so well, and then, his 
courage quite giving way, he broke into bitter 
weeping at the thought of this strange and terri- 
ble calamity which was so near and which he felt 
so powerless to prevent. 

When he grew calmer, and the friar had begged 
him to tell what troubled him, he cried earnestly, 
and in a voice broken by sobs : 

11 Oh, dear Father, I do beseech of you to prom- 
ise me that in some way or other you will find 
means to keep this dreadful Sperimento from tak- 
ing place. During the past two weeks my mind 
has been continually filled with 'frightful appre- 



Gathering Clouds 115 

hensions concerning it, and the more I have 
thought the more perfectly certain I have become 
that this occasion was the one shadowed forth in 
that terrible vision which came to you two years 
ago at Carnival-time and depressed you so 
greatly ! " 

Savonarola's rugged face clouded for a mo- 
ment as he heard the boy's supplicating words, 
and then his grave blue eyes seemed to look sol- 
emnly out into the future, as if they could easily 
read all the destiny written there for him, while 
he answered slowly: 

" No, my Bernardino, you are mistaken in this, 
— quite mistaken, I am sure. These apprehen- 
sions concerning the event fixed for to-morrow are 
needless and gloomy fears. In a certain sense it 
was quite natural that you should have had them, 
and to say the truth I have always blamed my- 
self considerably that I ever informed you of the 
vision I had that night of the Bonfire of Vanities. 
I should have been strong enough, my child, to 
bear that trial alone, as God gave it to me only. 
But your sympathy was very sweet and comfort- 
ing, and it was hard to resist the temptation to 
let you bear a share of the burden. Thank God, 
your buoyant nature has enabled you to cast off 
the impression of it until now, and I do not think 
the knowledge has really hurt you. 

" But, my Dino, I am truly glad that you have 



n6 The Angels of Savonarola 

come to me with these unhappy anxieties about 
to-morrow, for I can certainly assure you that my 
vision did not apply to that occurrence at all. 
Indeed I can tell you more than that. It has been 
clearly shown to me that in God's good provi- 
dence, the Sperimento will never take place at 
all." 

"Thank God!" interjected the boy fervently, 
and his friend continued: 

"What the actual cause which is to prevent 
it will be I do not clearly foresee, but this I do 
know, that some objection will arise on the side 
of the Franciscans, and for their own cowardly 
ends they will so arrange matters that the whole 
ceremony will fall through and the blame for its 
omission descend upon our shoulders. 

"This, however, will all be as God ordains, 
and to him be the glory, for the Sperimento, I 
have always felt, was utterly wrong, and entering 
upon the undertaking a great mistake on our 
part. 

"But Fra Domenico was so perfectly sure of 
success, and is still — loving heart that he is, he 
would gladly die for me a hundred times if it 
could set me right before the world!- — that it 
seemed impossible utterly to oppose him and the 
whole force of public opinion which stood behind 
him. 

" Now, Dino," Savonarola continued, " I want 



Gathering Clouds 117 

you to dismiss this anxiety at once from your 
mind, and go home to a night of quiet rest." 

"I will, dear Father!" cried the boy in his 
own cheerful tones. " But before I go, tell me 
one more thing, I pray you. Had that dreadful 
vision of yours then no meaning? Is it in truth 
a spectre which I may put out of my mind for- 
ever, and no longer continue to fear?" 

No sooner had these words escaped him than 
the lad would have given all he possessed to call 
them back. For at his question a change came 
over Fra Girolamo. He began to tremble vio- 
lently and his face grew white and drawn. 

u Ah, my son," he cried in a sorrowful voice, 
" how little you mean to hurt me, and yet how 
little your young heart knows of all that is before 
us both ! Poor boy ! I would shield you from 
the sight and knowledge of what my vision really 
means if I could; but now I can only pray God 
that when the time comes he will give you strength 
to bear it. There will be no burning to-morrow, 
child, but, alas, there is to be another and far 
greater burning in Florence which will bring grief 
to many hearts. I thank God that just how soon 
or under just what circumstances it is to occur 
has as yet been mercifully hidden from my eyes ! " 

Having spoken these words with a solemn and 
yet a strong voice, Fra Girolamo fell on his knees, 
and leaning upon his desk buried his face between 



n8 The Angels of Savonarola 

his hands. Dino knelt beside him, and neither 
spoke for many moments. At length the friar 
raised his head and said quite naturally: 

"God forgive me, my boy! I have again 
yielded to the impulse to confide in you more 
than I ought. Such burdens should not be laid 
upon your young shoulders. Do not let the 
thought of what I have said abide with you now, 
but cast it aside and trust that God will give us 
all power to endure his will in any event." 

The Frate said these last words with a manner 
so calm and at the same time so cheerful that 
Dino took heart again, and looking up into his 
face begged his forgiveness for having spoken 
thoughtlessly. 

" I might have known," he exclaimed remorse- 
fully, " that I ought not to have questioned you 
more on such a subject. Now I will never speak 
of the matter again, and, please God, if anything 
dreadful is to happen, it may be far off in the fu- 
ture, and perhaps may even then not prove nearly 
so terrible as we have feared." 

Thus speaking, the boy raised his face to the 
Frate again with a cheerful light in his dark eyes, 
and receiving his farewell salutation went home 
quite happily, comforted by the assurance that at 
least nothing awful was really to occur on the mor- 
row. 

Friday morning dawned clear and bright, and 



Gathering Clouds 119 

very early were the preparations begun for the 
Sperimento. 

In the great Piazza in front of the Palazzo 
della Signoria the Franciscan monks carefully 
constructed two long piles of firewood, kindlings 
and other inflammable materials, between which 
there was just room for the champions to walk 
when they made the test. 

Soon the square was crowded with eager 
watchers, anticipating much pleasurable and per- 
haps some painful excitement from the promised 
spectacle. 

Guido Salviati was there in his place as one of 
the Piagnone armed guard, of which five hundred 
were drawn up on one side, opposite to the five 
hundred Campagnacci on the other side of the 
Piazza. 

Dino was there too, with his mother, who had 
insisted upon coming, but who was in a state of 
nervous terror from which her son vainly tried to 
rescue her by assurances that no one was really 
going into the fire and that all would yet be well. 

After all the spectators had assembled there 
came the procession of Dominicans with Fra Do- 
menico marching at its head wearing a scarlet 
cape and carrying the crucifix in his hand. 

The Frate himself was one of the procession, 
and Dino was thankful to notice that the expres- 
sion upon his face was as calm and peaceful as it 



120 The Angels of Savonarola 

had been when he bade him farewell the even- 
ing before. 

Then the Franciscans, headed by their cham- 
pion, marched in and took their places. 

All seemed to be in readiness for the promised 
ceremonies, and the crowd began to grow im- 
patient, as after they had waited some time, there 
was still no sign that the ordeal was to begin. 
Evidently something had gone wrong, for the 
leaders of the two monkish orders appeared to be 
in continued conversation and violent discussions 
ensued. 

The truth was that, just as Savonarola had fore- 
seen, the Franciscans from the beginning never 
intended that any Trial by Fire should be per- 
mitted. They had no notion whatever of allow- 
ing their champion to run any risk of even so much 
as singeing his garments, and of course they knew 
that if Fra Domenico once entered the flame he 
also would be forced to do so. The people 
wanted fair play in the matter, and would cer- 
tainly insist upon equal danger being faced by 
each champion. Hence, as they could not really 
jeopardize the life of either monk, they saw that 
their only hope lay in defeating the whole scheme 
of the Sperimento and making it appear that the 
blame for its failure should rest upon the Frate's 
shoulders. 

The first objection arose when Fra Domenico 



Gathering Clouds 121 

appeared ready to enter the glowing pathway be- 
tween the piles of fagots with the crucifix in his 
hands. 

"That cannot possibly be allowed!" cried the 
Superior of the Franciscans. 

Savonarola then removed the crucifix from his 
brother monk's hands, and placed in them, instead, 
the sacred vessel containing the Host. 

At this the Franciscans set up a still louder 
outcry, saying that such sacrilege could never be 
permitted. The Signoria were all on the side of 
the Franciscans and supported them in their end- 
less wrangling and opposition until hours had been 
thus passed in weary strife and bickering. 

Fra Girolamo was perhaps the only person in 
that whole crowded Piazza who remained 
throughout the tiresome day calm and undis- 
turbed. 

Guido Salviati, who stood near him much of 
the time, noticed a far-away look in his eyes which 
he had never seen there before. The cloud which 
for weeks past had rested upon him, and had 
often furrowed his brow with tense lines of anx- 
iety, seemed to have lifted from his heart. He 
was evidently not dwelling upon the petty worries 
of this harassing day, but was looking far beyond 
them to something infinitely more important. 

Thus the strange day wore on, and ever the 
disappointment and disgust of the assembled mul- 



122 The Angels of Savonarola 

titude became more apparent as the certainty 
dawned upon them that no Ordeal by Fire was 
to take place after all. Dino could hear on 
every side hisses and groans for Savonarola, and 
execrations of the pestilent friar who had brought 
so much trouble on Florence already and who was 
really at the bottom of every misfortune. 

Bitterness was in the boy's heart as he recog- 
nized that some of the very men who were now 
calling down maledictions upon his beloved friend 
had two years before been among his most active 
partisans and had esteemed him the greatest of 
leaders and reformers. 

Toward the middle of the afternoon Maria 
Salviati's strength, which had been failing under 
the terrible strain, gave way utterly, and Bernar- 
dino was obliged with the help of two servants 
who had accompanied them to carry her home in 
a half-fainting condition. 

When she had been revived and grown some- 
what calmer Dino thought of himself for the first 
time and took some food, for he was exhausted 
and very hungry. 

At first he determined that he would return to 
the Piazza, but after a little consideration de- 
cided not to do so. The fatigue and anxiety had 
told upon him, and again the terrible depression 
thrown off by his interview of the evening before 
with the Frate settled down upon his spirit. 



Gathering Clouds 123 

Kneeling beside his bed in his own room, he 
tried to seek comfort in prayer, but was too ut- 
terly weary to find words, and in a few moments 
the boy was fast asleep. 

The first sound which smote upon his drowsy 
senses, and brought him back to half conscious- 
ness, was the noise of pelting rain upon his win- 
dow. 

Instantly his awakening mind recurred to the 
events of the day, and he knew that the excite- 
ment must now be at an end, for of course the 
people would perceive that the sudden thunder- 
storm precluded any possibility of lighting a fire 
with the rain-soaked fagots and brushwood. 

" Thank God!" cried Dino fervently. " The 
danger is over at last ! " 

But even as he spoke he heard in the street 
beneath his window a sound as of troops march- 
ing and the clanking of spear and sword, and then 
the loud shouting of an infuriated mob surround- 
ing and pursuing them. 

Leaning out in the heavy rain, he looked down 
and saw the Piagnone guard, his own father 
amongst them, marching grimly and swiftly back 
to San Marco, formed into a hollow square, in 
whose centre they had placed Fra Girolamo. 

It evidently needed all their strength and cour- 
age to keep him there and to protect him, for 
all about their ranks, hurling missiles against them 



124 The Angels of Savonarola 

and surging close up, as if endeavoring to break 
through the protecting lines, was an angry multi- 
tude apparently anxious to tear in pieces, if it 
might have its way, that patient figure who for 
eight years had lived and suffered among them. 

" The Frate! — to the fire with the Frate!" 
shouted some. Others cried, " Send him to the 
Pope! Put him out of the city! Away with 
him ! We will not have this man trying to rule 
Florence any longer! Curses upon the Domini- 
can ! Down with Fra Girolamo ! Viva il Papa ! 
Long live the Borgia ! M 

And Dino, as he sadly closed the window, shut- 
ting out the pelting hurricane but not the sound of 
those mocking voices, could not help remember- 
ing how another jeering multitude had cried many 
centuries before in Jerusalem, as they insulted 
Fra Girolamo's divine Master, "Away with such 
a fellow from the earth, for it is not fit that he 
should live! Crucify him! We will not have 
this man to rule over us ! We have no king but 
Caesar!" 



VI 

THE BREAKING OF THE STORM 

Palm Sunday passed peacefully, a still bright 
day which seemed like a sort of oasis in a weary 
desert, a brief respite between two fierce tempests. 
It was the calm before a storm. 

Fra Girolamo preached again to his people in 
the morning, and though it is hardly probable 
that they realized he was speaking to them for the 
last time, yet there was in his manner so much 
of pathetic tenderness and of patient fortitude 
that many who heard his sermon were filled with 
premonitions that the Frate was giving his final 
message and that the moment of his departure 
was approaching. 

It seemed, however, as the quiet hours of the 
day drew on, that the turbulent spirit evoked by 
Friday's events had largely been subdued in the 
people of Florence. There was no noise or con- 
fusion upon the streets, and apparently the Cam- 
pagnacci were all quietly in their homes, without 
thought of further mischief. 

Just at sunset, and a short time before the hour 
for the evening service, Bernardino Salviati left 
his home and went to San Marco again to talk 

125 



126 The Angels of Savonarola 

for a little with the Frate. Over the city there 
seemed to hang a strange stillness as it lay in 
the sunset glow, its glistening campaniles and 
graceful towers lit up by the level rays. The 
motionless atmosphere appeared to Dino almost 
portentous, like the hush which sometimes pre- 
cedes a violent hurricane of wind and rain. He 
tried to rid himself of the feeling however, and 
hurrying through the long cloisters and corridors, 
reached at last Savonarola's familiar cell. 

The monk was there as usual, seated quietly 
before his desk, but he did not seem to be either 
writing or praying. 

As the boy entered he looked up smiling, but 
there was still in his eyes that far-away, expectant 
gaze which Dino had noticed on the Friday be- 
fore. Yet he was peaceful, and even cheerful, 
though he did not seem inclined to talk as much 
as usual. 

Bernardino at once broached the matter for 
which he had specially come that evening and of 
which his mind was very full. 

" Father," he cried eagerly, " I have been think- 
ing all day of a plan which I want you to promise 
me that you will try to adopt. Since Friday even- 
ing it has come clearly to my mind that you ought 
not to remain any longer in Florence. At pres- 
ent there is a cessation of hostility and the people 
seem quiet, but this symptom is in truth an alarm- 



The Breaking of the Storm 127 

ing one, for it is only a lull between two succes- 
sive bursts of tempest. 

"Now, however, is our opportunity and the 
time for you to depart from the city. If you 
will consent to let a few picked men from the 
Piagnone guard escort you, I am quite sure my 
father can manage it to-night, and before to-mor- 
row morning dawns we can carry you safely far 
beyond the boundaries of Florence and into some 
mountain retreat where you can remain safely 
until this storm of popular fury has expended 
itself." 

Bernardino paused expectant of some sign that 
the monk approved of his plan, but Fra Girolamo 
looked at him with a sad smile and shook his head 
gently. 

" You are, my Dino, as always, most thought- 
ful for me and wise, too, beyond your years," he 
said. " This plan might have proved a good one 
and it could possibly have been carried out several 
months ago. But if you will consider a few mo- 
ments I think that even your enthusiastic spirit 
must perceive how in the light of recent events 
it would seem utterly impossible. Do you think, 
my son, even if I allowed your father and his 
brave comrades to risk their lives for my sake, 
that the people would permit me to escape them 
in this way? It is quite as you say; they are calm 
now, but it is the preternatural calm of the wild 



128 The Angels of Savonarola 

beast who is meditating another furious spring 
upon his prey. They will rouse themselves again 
shortly, perhaps this very night, and this time I 
know certainly that they will be successful in com- 
passing my death. 

" But even, Dino, supposing that I could leave 
the city and find a temporary shelter among the 
hills, how long do you think it could be main- 
tained? You must remember, my boy, that I 
am nothing but an excommunicated, renegade 
monk now, under the papal ban — that almost the 
whole world is against me except you and a few 
other faithful souls. To the confines of Italy 
and far beyond them the Borgia's hatred would 
pursue me and I could not possibly escape it. 

"No, my child, do not try to persuade me to 
leave Florence, for if I must die it were far better 
to perish here among my friends for whom I have 
labored — even among my enemies, who were once 
friends and whom I still love tenderly — than to 
die afar off in some foreign land at the hands of 
that cruel monster who occupies the chair of St. 
Peter !" 

Dino listened to this reply with a troubled 
countenance and with his dark eyes full of tears. 
Kneeling at the Frate's side he was about to press 
his suit still further, though it seemed well nigh 
hopeless, when upon the peaceful silence of the 
convent there rose the sound of a hoarse distant 



The Breaking of the Storm 129 

roar — the sound of many voices shouting together 
and the continuous tramp of marching feet. 

A strange, unearthly light came into the Frate's 
blue eyes. Lifting his head he listened, and then 
said calmly, " Behold, my Dino, it is as I told you 
1 — the storm is about to break!" 

Bernardino Salviati never had a very clear or 
consecutive impression of the succeeding events of 
that night. He knew that the Frate rose at once 
and that they went together through the convent- 
halls and into the church, where Fra Girolamo at 
once assembled all the monks and where he 
awaited, leading them in a service of prayer, the 
tumult which was so fast approaching. 

It soon appeared that the Campagnacci had 
been at work again throughout the city, and that 
they had collected a vast mob, many of them 
armed and many others carrying blazing torches. 

The kneeling monks were shortly able to dis- 
tinguish the words which they cried as they rushed 
madly onward: 

11 To San Marco — the fire to San Marco ! We 
will burn the friar in his cell! Down with the 
convent — we will roast him alive and then send 
his bones to Alexander! Open the doors and let 
us in, or we will murder every Dominican of 
you all ! " 

These menaces were accompanied by vile curses, 



130 The Angels of Savonarola 

and as the monks, aware of their danger, had se- 
curely barred and fastened the great portals of 
the convent, the crowd immediately applied their 
torches to them and burst in hotly, while the 
whole place was filled with thick clouds of smoke 
and with infuriated human beings. 

But the brave Dominican monks and novices 
were by no means going to surrender their beloved 
leader without a fierce struggle. Some of the 
young Piagnone nobles too, many of whom like 
Bernardino Salviati had in time past been proud 
to call themselves Savonarola's " angels," being 
somehow forewarned of what was about to occur, 
had hurried by short cuts and byways to the con- 
vent and had succeeded in getting into it before 
the mob arrived. A few of these were armed, 
and in spite of Fra Girolamo's protest, they fought 
fiercely. 

Many of the younger monks and novices also 
armed themselves with whatever they could lay 
hands upon. Some of them snatched the heavy 
gilded wooden crosses from the altars for weapons, 
and we are told that they did indeed look like 
avenging angels as in their white robes, and with 
holy indignation in their noble faces, they swept 
down upon the powers of darkness which were 
invading those consecrated precincts. 

Bernardino was among the most zealous of the 
defenders, and heedless of the Frate's beseeching 



The Breaking of the Storm 131 

cry, " My children, let them take me at once ! 
My life is not worth such a sacrifice as this!" 
he and his comrades beat back the invaders and 
finally drove them temporarily out of the convent. 

But as the boy dealt blow after blow upon his 
enemies, exerting to the utmost his young strength, 
he was suddenly conscious of a swift, sharp pain 
through his shoulder, and wondering what caused 
it, did not realize for a moment that he had been 
severely wounded by a spear-thrust. 

The stream of blood which issued from beneath 
his tunic, however, made him pause, and then his 
companions bore him, half swooning, back into 
the church and laid him down near the altar where 
a number of others who had been injured were 
already lying. 

Savonarola was going tenderly from one toj 
another, skillfully binding up wounds with his 
swift, slender fingers, and to those who were evi- 
dently past help administering the last consola- 
tions of the Church. When he saw how Dino 
was hurt a groan broke from his trembling lips. 
" Oh, my son, this is the bitterest drop of all!" 
he cried, and then, bending, he quickly began to 
loosen the boy's clothing and to bind up the wound, 
which, though serious, did not seem to be one en- 
dangering his life. 

The flow of blood was soon stanched, and the 
Frate, greatly comforted, was thanking God that 



132 The Angels of Savonarola 

Dino's injury was not vital, when two monks en- 
tered bearing in their arms another wounded lad 
and laid him down before Fra Girolamo. 

It was Pietro Panciatici, a dear friend and com- 
rade of Bernardino's and a lad of about his own 
age. He had ever been an enthusiastic Piagnone, 
and one of the Frate's most devoted " angels." 

It was very evident to the most casual onlooker 
that he was near death, but in his great dark 
eyes a look hovered so unconscious of pain and so 
radiantly beatific that all were startled. 

Savonarola went to Pietro at once and admin- 
istered extreme unction. His emotion was great 
as he did so, for he had loved the boy tenderly 
and he felt now that the young life was given in- 
stead of his. 

But an old chronicler tells us that the dying 
Panciatici looked up into the monk's well-beloved 
face with a smile of delight and of gratitude, cry- 
ing, " This is indeed blessed, dear Father, to die 
for you ! Never in my life have I been so happy 
as at this moment ! " 

With these words his pure young spirit passed 
away, and Savonarola knelt beside the noble lad 
weeping. 

But the Frate was not even allowed to mourn 
his best friends in peace, for during the lull which 
had followed the last onslaught of the Campag- 
nacci there came from the Signoria a deputation 



The Breaking of the Storm 133 

who begged that the Frate would consent to leave 
San Marco and accompany them at once to the 
Palazzo Vecchio. They insisted that this was 
the only way by which the convent could be saved 
from further attack and they promised faithfully 
that the Frate should be soon brought safely home 
again. In this latter promise it was impossible 
that any one who knew the state of popular feel- 
ing could put much confidence. 

Fra Girolamo did not hesitate, however. He 
was glad to save his followers from further risk 
and danger and he felt that to sacrifice any more 
lives of those so dear to him was far worse than 
death itself. 

He first calmly and even cheerfully went to each 
one of his wounded friends, including Dino, and 
bade them good-by, saying not to fear for him, 
as the Signoria had promised to protect him. 

Dino was by this time in a half-conscious state, 
for though the bleeding had stopped his shoulder 
was exceedingly painful, and being greatly weak- 
ened by the quantity of blood lost and also by 
intense excitement, he was beginning to grow 
feverish. So he hardly realized how important 
and terrible were the events which were taking 
place, and this was indeed a merciful thing for 
him. 

The Frate then assembled as many of his 
brother-monks as possible In the great library 



134 The Angels of Savonarola 

and addressed to them most touching farewell 
words in Latin, exhorting them whatever hap- 
pened to remain faithful to the simple truth as 
he had ever tried to teach it to them, and to be- 
lieve that God did all things according to the 
highest wisdom and justice. 

He then withdrew into a smaller adjoining 
room, where he confessed to Fra Domenico and 
received from him the Sacrament. After this he 
kissed each one of the monks, and then announced 
himself fully ready to depart. It was about nine 
o'clock by this time, and the whole exciting affray 
had lasted probably less than two hours. 

Together Fra Girolamo and Fra Domenico 
went out, the former with his hands tied behind 
his back, into the dark streets, which were filled 
with a howling, jeering crowd of their bitterest 
enemies. 

Dino, lying still on the altar-steps in the church, 
heard dimly the wild shouts and derisive taunts 
which greeted their appearance, and then he re- 
membered clearly no more that happened until 
he found himself at home, whither several of his 
comrades had borne him after quiet was restored 
in the streets, lying upon his own familiar bed and 
with his dear mother's face bending tenderly over 
him. 

Bernardino's wound turned out to be a much 



The Breaking of the Storm 135 

more serious affair than it had at first seemed. 
The feverish conditions increased greatly, and 
the boy was in a state of semi-stupor, out of which 
it seemed scarcely possible that he would ever 
rally, for more than a month. 

Those were, indeed, sad and terrible weeks for 
Guido and Maria Salviati and the effect of them 
remained as a dark shadow over all their subse- 
quent lives. Not only was their well-beloved child 
lying very near to the boundaries between life and 
death, so that it seemed as if at any moment he 
might cross into the unknown world, but their 
revered and adored Frate, the leader and the 
friend who had done so much for them and so 
much for the world, was undergoing in the Pa- 
lazzo Vecchio a treatment at the hands of the 
Signoria so horrible and so scandalous that human 
nature recoils at the thought of it. 

Having now utterly abandoned all restraining 
principle and every idea of honor which they might 
have once possessed, the Government of Florence 
allowed a corrupt council of sixteen citizens to try 
Savonarola. Among this number were many of 
his most implacable enemies, one of them being 
Dolfo Spini himself. 

We would not dwell upon the terrible tortures 
which the brave monk endured, nor upon the 
lonely moments which he spent, in great pain of 
both body and mind, in that little chamber, the 



136 The Angels of Savonarola 

Alberghettino, high up in the " Rocca " which 
hangs so far aloft in the air above the city, the 
tower of the Palazzo Vecchio. 

But the loving hearts who had trusted Fra Giro- 
lamo so long and so absolutely could have borne 
even that with patience — could have endured to 
know that great as the sufferings of his body might 
be his cruel enemies could not touch his dauntless 
spirit, which would soon escape from their hands 
and return to the God who created it — had not 
those same fiendish torturers resorted to a method 
even more malicious and more debased. 

Not content with using every effort to make the 
monk confess upon the rack that he was an im- 
postor, that all his claims to be a true teacher and 
a true servant of God were false and worthless, 
they gave out to the world, instead of the friar's 
veritable words, a collection of absolutely lying 
records which were, alas, believed for the time 
being by many of his friends in Florence. 

It is indeed possible that the great soul, in a 
delirium of pain, may have had forced from it 
some words like these : " I will confess that I 
have not founded all my predictions of future 
events upon direct divine revelation but upon my 
own opinion, founded, however, always upon a 
thorough study of the Holy Scripture." 

That he said even so much as this is not, how- 
ever, at present certain, for the records have been 




THE "ROCCA" TOWER, WHERE SAVONAROLA WAS 
IMPRISONED. 



The Breaking of the Storm 137 

so entirely falsified that there is no confidence to 
be placed in them. 

What is very certain, however, is that the Sig- 
noria were forced to send a message like this to 
the Pope, which scarcely seems to imply that they 
felt themselves to have succeeded adequately in 
the process of torturing their noble victim: 

" We have had to deal with a man of the most 
extraordinary patience of body and wisdom of 
soul, who hardened himself against all torture 
and from whom we could scarcely extract any- 
thing which he wished to conceal from us." 

Had Maria and Guido Salviati known then all 
that we know now, the six weeks of Savonarola's 
imprisonment would have been comparatively easy 
for them to bear. But when the false " Confes- 
sion " was published it was difficult for any one 
to tell just how much of it could be believed and 
how much was certainly untrue in this complicated 
tissue of lies. The weak populace of Florence 
hailed the " Confession " with delight. 

" Now," they cried, " the Frate has acknowl- 
edged that he never was what he pretended to be 
■ — a teacher sent by God; that he never had any 
revelations of God's will made to him or any fore- 
knowledge of things which were to happen. Let 
us put this impostor to death just as quickly as 
we can, for there is no doubt that it is he who has 
brought all these troubles upon unhappy Florence, 



138 The Angels of Savonarola 

and if we get rid of him we shall certainly have 
prosperous times again ! " 

But not his enemies alone were deceived by the 
document. Even the Dominicans of San Marco, 
to their everlasting shame and disgrace, now 
failed their great leader in his hour of deepest 
need, just as the disciples failed the Master in his 
darkest moments: "They all forsook Him and 
fled!" 

When these monks who had loved and trusted 
their Superior during so many years read the pub- 
lished retraction of his claims, they, strange to 
say, believed it, and immediately in a body sent 
in their submission to the Pope. 

Considering the weakness and baseness of hu- 
man nature, thus testified to in so many ways, we 
can scarcely regard it as strange that during those 
dark days there were few even among the Piag- 
noni who dared to say boldly, " We will not be- 
lieve that our leader and friend ever said any of 
these strange and unnatural words. It is evident 
that these reports have been infamously tampered 
with, and the character of the men who made 
them out is such as to inspire absolutely no belief. 
Is not Dolfo Spini himself one of the Sixteen who 
have put our Frate to the torture, and is not he 
a fiend rather than a human being? If then 
some of this document is false, we have no suffi- 
cient proof that all of it may not be, and until 



The Breaking of the Storm 139 

such proof is forthcoming we will never believe 
in Fra Girolamo's condemnation of himself!" 

There were, it is true, comparatively few of 
the Piagnoni who were strong enough to assume 
this position, but of those few Maria Salviati 
was one. Even her husband passed through that 
terrible time in an agony of doubt and dismay, 
but his wife held up her head bravely and was 
even cheerful as she tended her sick boy. To her 
to believe was easy — to doubt a complete impos- 
sibility. She could no more have thought the 
Frate capable of deceit or of imposture than she 
could have dreamed the sun might go out in mid- 
night blackness at noonday. 

Often she said to Guido, " Why are you so cast 
down, my husband? Do not put any trust in these 
assertions of the Sixteen that Fra Girolamo has 
really said what they claim ! Do you expect that 
a devoted and faithful servant will have any 
better treatment than his Lord and Master re- 
ceived at the hands of wicked men? Has human 
nature changed for the better, think you, since 
the days when they tortured and insulted the Lord 
Jesus by putting on him the crown of thorns and 
buffeting him with their hands? No, rather, 
I consider that it has grown worse, for against 
how much more light are the Florentines sinning 
than was had by the Jews! 

11 Savonarola is suffering cruelly, and I am sure 



140 The Angels of Savonarola 

that he must die, but he will die a conqueror. 
God will never leave his servant alone in this hour 
of his deepest need, and some day these so-called 
* confessions ' will surely be shown to be false ! " 
Thus Maria's brave soul refused to be dejected 
or cast down, and Bernardino, seeing his mother's 
bright face, guessed very little of the sad events 
which were taking place. He was too weak and 
ill to comprehend fully what had happened, but 
he did know that the Frate was imprisoned and 
that his trial was soon to take place. Of the cruel 
tortures and of the published " confession " he 
never heard until all was over, so there was noth- 
ing to hinder the gradual return of his strength 
which came as his wound healed. 

Meanwhile, after much wrangling between the 
Pope and the Signoria as to which should have 
the supreme privilege of putting to death one of 
the noblest men who has ever lived upon this 
earth, it was finally decided that Savonarola should 
not be delivered up into the hands of Alexander 
VI. , as the latter had so much desired, but should 
be publicly hung, and then his body burned in the 
great Piazza della Signoria, May 23, 1498. 

No taint of suspicion had even during this terri- 
ble trial ever been breathed against the monk's 
moral character, and even his enemies were obliged 
to acknowledge that there was no just cause why 



The Breaking of the Storm 141 

he should be put to death. He had, indeed, re- 
fused to acknowledge the Pope's power to excom- 
municate him, and he had declared many times 
in unmistakable terms what he thought of Alex- 
ander's character. This really was his only crime, 
and the war between him and the Borgia was one 
which, in any event, must have inevitably become 
a death-struggle. 

It was the war which has existed in all ages 
and times between the powers of light and of 
darkness, between Michael and Satan, between 
Jesus Christ and the devil 1 In this case, as often 
before, the baser elements of human nature seemed 
for a time to gain absolute sway, to completely 
triumph over the cause of purity and justice. But 
it was only for a time, and Savonarola did not 
suffer in vain. 

Meanwhile, between the periods of his cruel 
torture the great soul was allowed several weeks 
of respite, and there in his little prison cell high 
up in the lofty tower he employed himself in writ- 
ing two beautiful and trustful meditations, one 
upon the Fifty-first and the other upon the Thirty- 
first Psalm. 

He was now sure that his cause was lost and 
that his life-mission had in many respects been 
a total failure. All that he had suffered and done 
for Florence seemed quite unappreciated, and 
there were few even of those who loved him who 



142 The Angels of Savonarola 

could still believe in him fully. But God was 
upon his throne and in the end light would suc- 
ceed the darkness, truth would triumph over error. 
If Florence was never to be God's city, never to 
become the place where Jesus Christ was su- 
premely honored, there was yet to be, for all be- 
lieving souls and all redeemed sinners, a Holy 
City into which there should not enter anything 
that worketh abomination or maketh a lie. Only 
those written in the Lamb's Book of Life should 
dwell in that Holy City, and Savonarola knew 
that his name was inscribed on those shining pages 
and his title was clear to a mansion in that eternal 
dwelling-place. 

Therefore the racked body endured as seeing 
Him who is invisible, and the tortured spirit looked 
far on to the endless years which it should spend 
with God. Those who suffer greatly in a true 
cause have always certain mighty compensations 
which are not reckoned up to them by ordinary 
judgment, and of these we cannot doubt that 
Savonarola possessed more than the usual share. 

If in his prison cell there were not vouchsafed 
to him any of those ecstatic visions and rapturous 
revelations which had visited him in the past, we 
may feel sure that the God of all comfort wrapped 
his torn yet trusting servant about with a peace 
which nothing could really disturb, with a strong 
confidence which no venomous darts could pierce. 



The Breaking of the Storm 143 

So the Easter-tide, with its joyous associations, 
passed sorrowfully away in Florence. April was 
gone, and it was the nineteenth of May when 
two Papal Commissioners arrived from Alexan- 
der VI., and complete arrangements were made 
between them and the Committee of Sixteen for 
the public execution to take place on the twenty- 
third. 

After the arrival of these Papal Legates, Savon- 
arola was again cruelly tortured for three days, 
seemingly this time as the result of pure devilish 
malice, for why make him suffer further when he 
was so soon to die? 

Fra Domenico and also Fra Silvestro — 
another Dominican monk, who was a much less 
exalted character than his two stronger brethren, 
but who by his courage and nobility at the last 
proved himself worthy to suffer with them' — were 
all condemned to the same death. This sentence 
was communicated to each one of the prisoners 
on the night of May twenty-second, and they 
were told that it was to be their last night on 
earth. 

By a singular arrangement the three doomed 
brethren, who had been kept in solitary confine- 
ment for the preceding six weeks, were allowed 
once more to see each other and to have their last 
meeting in the great hall of the Consiglio Mag- 
giore. 



144 The Angels of Savonarola 

It must have been with peculiar feelings that 
Savonarola entered this apartment. For the hall 
had been built only a few years before by his ad- 
vice and at the very height of his popularity, and 
he had hoped great things for Florence's well- 
being from the assemblies of true and noble men 
w T ho should meet there and make wise laws for 
the people. Now all these hopes had perished 
forever. Florence was to-morrow to put him to 
death, after having offered to him every insult 
and degradation which could be heaped upon a 
human soul and human body. 

No comfortable resting-place was provided for 
those weary prisoners on that last sad night, and 
we are told that the only way in which Savonarola, 
after he had embraced and blessed the two monks 
whom he was so glad to see once more, could find 
an interval of rest was through the kindness of a 
Penitent Friar named Nicolini. This good man 
remained with him all night, and, sitting down on 
the floor, contrived to make a comfortable support 
for the Frate's head upon his knees. 

Like a tired child the patient martyr slept thus 
for some time, and God must have sent to him ten- 
der and comforting visions, for Fra Nicolini tells 
us that he smiled many times sweetly in his sleep. 
When he awoke he thanked his friend for his kind- 
ness with that same gentle gratitude which he had 
ever evinced for small favors. Then he confessed 



The Breaking of the Storm 145 

for the last time to the Penitent Friar and received 
the Holy Communion, thus preparing himself for 
the fast-approaching ordeal. 

Bernardino Salviati had up to almost the last 
moment remained quite ignorant of the actual 
state of affairs in Florence, but on the day pre- 
ceding the execution his soul seemed overwhelmed 
by a certainty that some awful occurrence was close 
at hand and he forced from his mother's lips the 
whole truth. 

He was still very weak and his wound was not 
fully healed, but when he announced firmly his 
intention of being present at the Frate's death on 
the morrow, neither of his parents felt that they 
dared to assume the responsibility of refusing 
their consent. For there was in Dino's white, 
set face an expression that told them how vain it 
would be to oppose him, and how this last sight 
of his beloved friend would perhaps be more to 
him than any other comfort which remained in 
life. 

The distance was not great from the Salviati 
palace to the Piazza, but it seemed very far to 
those three who trod it together on that beau- 
tiful May morning. Dino walked slowly, leaning 
hard upon his father's arm, and his mother fol- 
lowed them sorrowfully. 

The large square was already thronged with 



146 The Angels of Savonarola 

people when they reached it, and it was difficult 
to force a passage through the crowd. But Ber- 
nardino had a plan which he was intensely desirous 
of carrying out, and his father had promised to 
help him by every means in his power. It was 
to traverse the square and reach a place as near 
as possible to the door of the Palazzo Vecchio, so 
that he might be very close to the Frate when he 
appeared. 

Rather to Guido's surprise they were able to 
attain this end quite easily. True there were 
some insulting remarks which reached their ears 
about the " white-faced Piagnone" and the 
11 Frate's Angel," but on the whole the people 
seemed to be really touched with pity by Bernar- 
dino's weakness and his pale look of utterly de- 
spairing grief. 

Several times men stepped aside with a respect- 
ful gesture, giving up their places to him, that he 
might get a few steps nearer, and more than once 
sympathetic remarks reached his ear — " Poor 
child, this sight will kill him ! The boy is about 
to die too; let him see his friend, the Frate, once 
again in this world!" 

At last the three were standing in a position 
where Dino could almost touch with his hand the 
monks who were about to issue through the door- 
way, and from that to pass down the long wooden 
platform, at the end of which was erected the gib- 



The Breaking of the Storm 147 

bet with three halters upon it and the great heap 
of fuel underneath. 

And now there arose from within the palace a 
confused murmur of voices and then the sound of 
footsteps approaching. Bernardino's brain was 
reeling, but he did not lose consciousness. Only 
one thing he saw clearly, and that was the face of 
Fra Girolamo very near to him — a face altered by 
suffering, its strong lines made sharper and more 
rugged from lack of proper food and sleepless 
nights, yet with that same exalted look upon it 
which he had noticed there the last time he had 
seen it — on that night six weeks ago when they 
had talked together for the last time upon this 
earth. 

Now the thought uppermost in the boy's mind 
was whether the monk would see and recog- 
nize him. If he could only have one more look 
from those deep blue eyes which he loved so well 
he would not ask for a single spoken word; the 
lad thought that he could bear all the rest with 
patience ! 

Fra Girolamo's lips were moving, and quite 
distinctly though very low there fell from them 
the syllables of the Creed which he was calmly 
repeating. 

The Frate was close to him now — the supreme 
moment had come; would he go by without a 
glance of recognition? 



148 The Angels of Savonarola 

But suddenly, as if arrested by some electric 
shock which seemed passing from Bernardino's 
mind to his, the Frate's eyes, which had been up- 
lifted, looked right down into the lad's own. 
Then a swift, startling change passed over the 
thin face, as when a burst of sunlight irradiates 
some still and sombre lake which has lain in the 
shadow of a dark cloud. 

Savonarola smiled, and his last sweet smile upon 
earth was given to his boy friend. Then he spoke 
naturally and calmly, though very low — " You 
here, my Dino? Thank God that I see you once 
again ! " 

It seemed as if he wished to say more, but the 
moment was over, and the escorting soldiers hur- 
ried him on to the platform where were awaiting 
him the three tribunals which were to pronounce 
his sentence. 

The happiness of that moment was indeed a 
mighty compensation, sufficient to cheer and com- 
fort Bernardino Salviati in many dark hours 
through the remainder of his life. But its imme- 
diate result was, as might have been expected, far 
too much for his weakened physical condition and 
excited brain. Merciful nature came to the res- 
cue, for the boy fainted and remained in a state 
of semi-stupor long after he had been carried 
home by his parents and put to bed again. 

The mental strain and the great exertion 



The Breaking of the Storm 149 

which he had made caused a return of feverish 
conditions, and it was many weeks before Ber- 
nardino fully recovered and was able to bear any 
talk concerning the events of that day. 

The rest of the great tragedy it was well that 
he should not have seen or been obliged to remem- 
ber; yet the knowledge of the way in which Savon- 
arola's noble heart met its fate, though a dark one, 
was full of profit and inspiration for those who 
venerated his memory, and months afterwards 
Dino insisted upon hearing from his mother a full 
account in every particular of that which took 
place. 

As the Frate stood before the first of the three 
tribunals which were to carry out his sentence, 
and as he was shorn of his Dominican robes and 
degraded from his rank as priest, the Bishop who 
performed this office declared him to be separated 
from the Church militant and the Church trium- 
phant. But the gentle voice of the martyr friar 
rebuked him, saying quietly, " From the Church 
militant — yes, but from the Church triumphant — 
no; that is not yours to do!" 

From the Bishop's tribunal the monk passed on 
with his two companions to that of the Papal 
Commissaries, who pronounced the three heretics 
and schismatics, and then to the third and last 
tribunal, where the Florentine officials uttered the 
final sentence of death. 



150 The Angels of Savonarola 

Savonarola met his death in silence, and though 
when he had ascended the ladder he stood for a 
moment and looked calmly at the multitude, there 
was probably in his mind no thought and no desire 
of attempting any speech to them. 

What, indeed, should he have said to that cruel, 
mocking crowd? What was there left for him to 
say, except, perhaps, the words of his dying Mas- 
ter: " Father, forgive them, for they know not 
what they do! " 

But though he did not speak, it seems likely to 
those acquainted with his character that his heart 
was breathing that same prayer, and that his last 
thought was a longing for the peace and prosperity 
of the city which had so ill-treated him. 

We cannot refrain from quoting, as we close 
the story of Savonarola's last moments, that very 
noble and graceful tribute to the great Domini- 
can's undying fame which Mrs. Oliphant has so 
happily rendered in her " Makers of Florence " : 

" Florence learned after he was gone that her 
only chance for freedom lay in taking up again 
and following the system he had instituted; but 
did it, one is almost glad to know, too late; and 
so fell under the hated sway of the Medici, and 
out of one tyranny into another till recent events 
have given her back a better existence. 

11 The faithful in Florence kept up a secret mem- 
ory of the martyrs as long as there remained a 



The Breaking of the Storm 151 

Piagnone in the city, and strewed flowers in the 
stony square where Savonarola died, and burned 
lamps before his picture in their homes. 

1 His shadow lies across the sunny squares and 
streets of Florence and consecrates alike the little 
cell in San Marco, and the little prison in the 
tower, and the great hall built for his great Coun- 
cil, which, in a beautiful, poetical justice, received 
the first Italian Parliament, a greater council still. 

"Thus, only four hundred years too late, his 
noble patriotism had its reward." 

If any shall say that this story is too sad a one 
for us to have lingered over, we would reply that 
no life is really sad which ends in spiritual victory 
and the influence of which extends down the ages 
for the enriching and profiting of many successive 
generations, as has that of the great monk Fra 
Girolamo Savonarola. 

Savonarola and Fra Domenico and Dino and 
their brave Piagnone friends have now been for 
over four hundred years in the beautiful Country 
where there is no more death, neither sorrow nor 
crying; and if they could communicate with us 
now they would surely tell us that all the pain and 
grief of their lives upon earth were not things to 
be regretted, but that it was worth while to have 
borne the cross for their blessed Lord and King, 
and drunk the cup of woe that they might follow 



152 The Angels of Savonarola 

in his train — that the cross-bearing is amply re- 
paid by the crown-wearing ! 

And if our lives are made stronger and nobler 
by contemplating these events which occurred so 
long ago in Florence, another proof will be given 
that beautiful deeds and high endeavors continue 
to bring forth fruit through all succeeding ages 
in the beneficent influence which never ceases to 
follow the knowledge of them. 



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